In enemy waters
by DerLaCroix
Summary: Having left Britain, Harry tries to find a course through the troubled waters of the British Carribean. Sequel to 'Rocking the boat'
1. Catching up

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

 **In enemy waters**

By DerLaCroix

 **Chapter 1 – Catching up...**

 **August, 6th, somewhere south of Grand Bahama**

„Captain, she won't stand this much longer. We'll sail down the spars!" James Hitch, Second Mate of the _Revenge_ addressed the man on the poop deck.

Captain Harry Potter-Black was an impressive sight. His fine black leather boots came up to his knees and covered the dark green tight trousers. A red sash doubled as belt and hold for his battle wand in its holster. His customary wide belt across the chest held his trusted rapier with the thick golden wires woven into an ornamental hilt. Only the usual fancy wide-brimmed hat with the ostrich feather to provide the shadow needed in these waters was missing, as it would be sent flying by the gust of wind occasionally coming off the storm that raged above their heads, directed only at the sails.

Harry gave the rigging a searching glance. He examined the spars and their strained rig connecting them to the masts. He could see the masts actually bending slightly, the strained ropes of the backstays singing like harps in the wind. If they gave way first, the spars would hold, but the mast would break like a twig.

Sailors had already started to manually hold fast the ropes of the sheets and braces to keep them aligned. The strain had started to noticeably bend the belaying pins. All hands were struggling to keep the ship on course, but the crew of sixty was not complaining. They knew what was at stake.

"She must!" he spat, while he still held his battle wand raised and the magical hurricane pushing the ship like a leaf. He was practically bludgeoning the _Revenge_ across the open sea.

"They have at least two hours lead. If they reach Nassau before we do, we are out of luck. They will only need hours to identify Henry and Margret and only Merlin knows what they will do to them once they know!" he stated forcibly.

"Aye," Second Mate Hitch confirmed. All the men on board knew what the stakes were. While they were concerned about the fate of the two members of their small society, they were far more concerned about the risk that the governor's minions might make them spill the secret of the island's position. Only the risk of their safe haven in peril had made the men follow Harry onto this mission. They would rather have had the Captain prove himself in an easier setting, first, but fate had decided in favour of a trial by fire.

"So let's hope Neptune is on our side," the man said gravely as the First Mate stepped over to them. James took a step back and averted his eyes a bit. He knew that she normally didn't mind being ogled, but he trusted neither the Captain, nor his girl, to be reasonable in their current state.

Hermione had taken a liking to her pirate outfit, and her clothes mirrored Harry's, just her trousers were red, and her v-cut was much deeper and revealing. During her stay at the island, Hermione had earned herself quite a reputation. And not the kind one might think of. People had a healthy respect of her.

At first, there was resistance when Harry proclaimed Hermione to be his first mate in ship's way; even though Hermione was qualified for the post, she was a woman, and they were a superstitious bunch. The men huffed but didn't want to cross the Captain. In the end, they used tradition to solve the problem. They challenged Hermione to a duel for the position. The chosen opponent was about 40 years old, strong and agile. He was not the preferred man to lead, but by far the best dueller in town.

Naturally, the man underestimated the teenage girl blatantly. He assumed that he was far better than this not even fully qualified witch, but at the same time, he didn't want to piss of the Captain by hurting his girl.

So he decided to simply out-draw the girl and stun her. Granted, he was faster, but he didn't expect Hermione to read him that easily. Nor did he expect her to retaliate that fiercely.

Hermione had expected the man's tactic and planned accordingly. She just let herself fall to the ground and incanted " _capillus evello_ " while keeping her wand pointed at the man's groin. Given that she started falling the same time her opponent had cast his own spell, he was unable to shield, and wasn't fast enough to dodge.

To this day, people still cringed at the memory of the resulting scream. Hermione's position was certainly never, ever, again in peril of being questioned.

As a funny after-effect, the nickname "Baldy" stuck with Chaviér ever since, although he had a luscious, long mane of brown, wavy hair.

Hermione carefully stepped up to Harry, not to startle him. When he was in that state, he could easily lose control over his magic. His wand was busy, but even though he couldn't concentrate on two spells at once, his wandless magic was still responding to his instincts if he was scared.

"Harry..." she softly whispered and gently stroke his cheek. "You know I want it as much as you, but if we snap a mast, we lose any chance to get them. I've checked the reservoir; it is rapidly depleting and rather low already. Even if it holds until we catch up - while we certainly out-gun them, they still have their shields."

"Harry..." she started anew when he didn't respond.

"I can't!" he yelled. "If we go any slower, they'll escape. Your dad reported the name as _Raven_ , and according to one of the crew, that vessel can achieve about 10 knots, and even with that wind, we can't get more than about 12 knots out of this boat without breaking it. Do the maths!" he nearly screamed at her.

Hermione cringed at this. She knew that they had still hours to go until they reached the estimated intercept position.

If everything went perfect, they would reach Nassau only half an hour faster than their prey. That would put them right into visible range of the harbour. And then they would have to board and rescue quickly before reinforcements could arrive. Nassau held at least 6 ships, two of them with more guns than the _Revenge_.

With the current state of their reservoir, they couldn't fight them. Heck, they probably won't even be able to dive!

So even if they could avoid fighting those, they would risk leading them to Black Reef. Tears were welling up in her eyes. There were so many ifs. And most of them would make her lose her parents.

Harry had been quiet, very quiet. He was creating a serious storm for three hours straight by now. The magic didn't strain him. He had lots of reserves, but the ship didn't. The reservoir was low, and in a few hours, the unbreakability runes would fail, and so would the mast. If he increased the wind, he would catch up, but the ship would fail sooner. And if he stopped the wind, they were too slow.

" _If only there were a way to refill the reservoir,"_ he thought desperately and jerked as the solution hit him.

"Hermione!" he barked, as if she weren't right next to him. The woman in question jumped scared at the sudden call. "What?" she asked, a little annoyed at his tone.

"What do you need to bind me to the boat?"

"What?" this time, she yelled her response.

"Bind me to the ship's reservoir! It's the only way to quickly charge it!" Harry insisted.

"Are you crazy? Why do you want to do that? You know how bad that can be!" she bellowed.

"It's different! It's a reservoir!" he growled.

That response threw a spanner into Hermione's mounting rage. For a few moments, she actually considered his request, pondered the facts, and came to one simple conclusion.

He was right. Oh how she hated it when he did that! While she was able to retain even the slightest bit of knowledge, she was methodical. She could combine parts and use principles, but Harry was a natural user of stuff. While she would always find or create a perfect solution, no matter how complex the result, she needed to go from A to B to C. Meanwhile, he sometimes would come up with a simple, not overly efficient, yet practical shortcut that she never had thought of. These wild guesses out of the blue drove her crazy.

The difference was small, but significant. The wards at Privet Drive, the ones that the Headmaster had bound him to, had no reservoir. They were just a field, storing the magic in the air and ground. It just hung there, strengthening more and more, causing even Voldemort, himself, to not even think about going there.

But this ship was moving, so it needed an anchor and a 'battery' for its wards - a reservoir. That meant that he would only charge that, which had a defined maximum capacity. It would then only need the power that the enchantments drained from it, a mere trickle, except for battle, while soaking up all ambient magic it was exposed to.

"That's actually a good idea!" she mused. "It would recharge at a very high rate. You would feel some drain, but only until it's full. Depending on what the actual rate you can charge it turns out to be, it is very much possible that our shields will be seriously boosted, giving us some extra protection."

"What do you need? How long does it take?"

"I need a bit of your blood, that's all. It's not that hard to do if you know how - fifteen minutes, half an hour tops, not including preparation. If I had some people to help me with the ritual, another five minutes or so," Hermione said, going through the requirements in her head.

"Take Remus and Tonks with you, and hurry!"

 _ **ooOOoo**_

Twenty minutes later, Harry was back on the poop and conjuring up a veritable storm again, while the ship's reservoir was rapidly filling even with the strain on its enchantments. Harry still felt a bit light-headed as the reservoir was sucking on his core like, well, like Hermione on a good night, but he was growing accustomed to it, again. It was much better than the blood wards; those were vicious in their greed.

The ritual itself was rather easy, they needed a chalk pentagram around him, some more symbols painted over the keel to allow for a connection, and a long incantation, spoken by Hermione of course, who then sliced his thumb and smeared his blood on the keel, over one of the new charging runes. When Harry's knees buckled at the sudden violent draw on his magic, the Hell's Carrots of course had some lewd comments about getting sucked off by a boat they needed to be heard.

' _Hell's Carrots'_ was the nickname the Weasley twins had earned themselves among the crew. Given their natural affinity to all things going boom and their exceptional ability to predict trajectories they had shown as Beaters, it took them only a few days to out-class nearly every other gunner on the island. After the review of their memory of the Hogwarts bombardment , they were unanimously declared to take over the position as gun deck officers, each responsible - ok, accountable was probably a better word to use in combination with them - for one of the two gun decks, holding 18 guns each. And in charge of the once-a-month reshowing of that memory during comedy night.

Only Hermione could put one over them at long range, as she was able to calculate the trajectories in her head, and while taking more time than the trigger-happy twins, she almost always hit on the first shot, as long as she knew the gun. She had taken over the deck guns, as this was a position that kept her close to Harry.

While the keel-hauling didn't put much of a dampener on the twins' pranks, they had mellowed a bit with their pranking after a sound beating when they had spiked the food on board, which was an absolute no-go. Ever since, they were a cherished part of Harry's crew. Originally, they had planned to create an owl-order shop for their pranks, but realized that this would be too much work to make ends meet, since they were a wee bit too far from Britain for owl post and only Harry could activate the portkey.

They decided that a pirate life was enough fun for now and to save money to open their shop later. And boy, they did take their fun serious. It took weeks to understand their new-acquired pirate-snarling. The casual shouts of the enchanted rubber-parrots they had stuck to their shoulders didn't help, at all. Even Molly had switched over to just ignoring anything they did nowadays.

This thoughts made Harry ponder about how the Weasleys had followed him into his new life.

Dumbledore had died late in April, bed-ridden ever since Harry stunned him, finally succumbing to his cursed hand, and to his death he had proclaimed that the Dark Lord Voldemort would return unless Harry Potter dies, too.

In a political landslide, Lucius Malfoy had bought himself enough votes to get Fudge booted out of office, and getting himself elected for next Minister of Magic. One of his campaign points was making sure that Dumbledore's warnings would be heeded under his rule, unlike his predecessor did and thus had contributed to the mess of Voldemort. Lucius proved able to charm the sheep called citizen in jolly old Britain, and soon, they all bleated his tune.

Naturally, he instantly started changing the way the Ministry dealt. Halfbloods were culled, Purebloods took over and some restrictive laws concerning the life of Muggleborn were made. Nothing too sinister, that wouldn't have gone over with the population, but a noticeable tightening of the screws.

Soon, the Prophet started implying that maybe Potter himself, after all he had done, could be the next Dark Lord, and was waiting somewhere in the colonies to create an army to overthrow the Ministry, maybe resurrecting Voldemort as his aide. Harry knew that all hope for Britain was lost when people started to believe that.

Henry had the most fitting analogy for what had happened. Something about Malfoy pissing down their collective backs, and they believing him that it was raining. Harry would have to ask him how it was worded properly, later.

Arthur Weasley, the proud nail standing up, was one of the first Ministry workers that were given the sack, and when he heard rumours about political motivated charges were being fabricated about prominent light families a few days later, the Weasleys had promptly packed and headed for Grimmauld Place.

Shortly after that, they finally migrated to the island - Harry held contact to all his friends by Floo once a week at least, portkeying over to Grimmauld Place - and was shocked when he heard the news and their plea for asylum.

By next week, Luna and her father were already waiting in Grimmauld Place, informing him that their house, as well as the Burrow, had been burned to the ground, and all of them were now officially wanted for conspiracy against the Ministry and Wizengamot, their escapes seen as proof for their guilt.

Thus, Black Reef now possesses its very own newspaper, the _Wharf Bubbler,_ which was currently more of a social gossip tabloid, but with a promise by the editor to have a section about fantastic beasts of the oceans as soon as possible. Of course, he had taken every single one of the cock-and-bull stories yarned at the harbour at face value.

Molly had compensated for her loss of children to feed by opening a restaurant, which had a smashing success with the townsfolk, while Arthur now worked with one of the dealers who specialized in importing muggle equipment, enchanting it and protecting it from magical damage if necessary.

Ron, of all people, had tried to join Harry's crew, but it turned out that his ease on a broom didn't translate to the water. After a trial run on board of the Pathfinder, and being sea-sick for a record breaking span of days with no potion able to settle his stomach, he retired from his short days of privateering. He would never let anything get between his stomach and him.

He currently helped Molly with the restaurant, actually liking to be around the family and making money that way. He was especially fond of the job since it meant that he never missed a meal.

On the contrary, Ginny had taken to this life like a fish to the water. Although she was petite, her upbringing with 6 brothers, and especially the twins at that, meant that she wasn't taking any lip from anyone. The ability to control these two terrors translated directly into keeping a bunch of pirates under control, especially once she started to channel her mother, if needed. Her bat-bogey hex took care of the rest. Much to Molly's chagrin, she had kept the left side of her head shaven, and her right side long.

She was currently aboard the _Pathfinder_ , acting as second mate and communications officer, about two or three hours behind them, updating them about their position. It had taken a while to refit the Pathfinder for battle, but Mister Cobbs, the current Captain, had managed to arm and provision the vessel in only shy over two hours. It had just thirty men for crew and only carried 12 guns in total, but those could make the difference if they were noticed by the harbour. Everyone else in town was preparing for battle, in case the rescue mission failed.

Harry felt safer knowing that help would be available to cover their retreat. Although the _Pathfinder_ was a slender and shallow built boat, her short waterline made her slower than someone would expect. She was able to reach a veritable twelve and a quarter knot with good wind, but at that point, she would start to ride her bow wave, making further acceleration an uphill trip, thus impossible without a mean wind blowing. Like Harry currently provided.

This thought made Harry snap out of his reverie. "Hermione!" he called out, causing the witch in question to hurry over to his side. "Get a Patronus to Ginny and tell her to get four or five volunteers to be bound to their ship and the rest to conjure wind. Tell them about the pain that waits for them, and offer them a lost-limb compensation share of the prize. That should make them catch up nicely, wouldn't it?" he asked his advisor, and also gave Remus and Tonks, his acting guards, a questioning glance.

Hermione bit her lip and made a few quick estimations. "It should make them catch up about an hour later than we arrive."

"Better let them cease the wind and cancel the bindings as soon as they see our mast tips," Remus commented. "Unlike you, they would be somewhat exhausted and need some rest before battle. With some Pepper-up, that would delay them ten to twenty minutes, but make then reasonable useful in a battle. Four men could be just what it takes to tip the scales."

Harry made some short estimates about the expected battle, the planned distance to the harbour and the reaction time of the fleet at anchor. It would be enough. It had to.

"Make it so! And hoist fake colours, I want them to be fooled for as long as we can," he said, before upping his magical wind another notch, making the whole ship groan and shiver and the draw on his core increase noticeable.

 _ **ooOOoo**_

By mid afternoon, the man on the main top spreader sang out "Sail ho! Ship ahead!"

Harry called for a report and 3 minutes later, they had the confirmation. It was the _Raven_. Their prey was found.

It was a barque rigged ship, three masts, with the mizzen only carrying a gaff sail. It seemingly had a gun deck and was about two thirds of the Revenge's length, about a hundred feet. This would mean anything from 14 to 18 guns on the gun deck, and about half as much on deck. The _Revenge_ carried easily twice as many guns, and most probably much heavier pieces.

They knew that the _Revenge_ was currently making about 14 knots, and was probably 10 miles astern of the _Raven_. Estimating the other ship to make 10 knots, as reported, Hermione made a quick calculation.

Two and a half hours.

It would take them two and an effing half hour to catch up to them.

Casting a quick navigational positioning charm, she barked for a map and did some more charms while Mister Hitch sent a man to get one and a folding navigational table to place it on. Consulting the map and using some rulers and dividers, Hermione drew a line, and then a second one, finishing in a cross about five to ten miles off the harbour.

"That's going to be a tight one," Tonks quipped as she saw the markings. "That's not even an hour from the harbour. There's no way that they won't notice us. If they are quick on their feet, they'll depart half an hour after we make contact with the Raven. That's much too close for comfort."

"We have no choice. Get the Carrots up here for a briefing." Harry commanded and Tonks ran off, snapping a smart salute and an "Aye, Sir!" before departing.

When she herded the twins out of the hatches and all of the ship's officers were present, Harry started briefing them without letting his wind spell slip.

"I'll be blunt. We can get them, but we will certainly be noticed by Nassau. I don't have to tell you what that means, do I?"

George, who was wearing a see-trough eye patch today - one of their newest inventions, gave a low whistle. "That means at three or four smalls, and at least two heavy galleons. That's a whole bunch of barrels aimed at our pretty necks, Captain. This' better be done quickly or it will blow up in our faces, literally."

"This is where you two clowns come into play." Harry growled. "I want you and your best men on the Chasers."

"Can do, Harry…"

"You know how we liked…"

"To be on Chasers…"

"Hardy-har-har. I want you to use ball-and-chain. Bring a spar down or whatever - just slow them down. If we harass them enough, they might make a stand. The closer they get to the harbour the worse for us. Can you do this?" Harry asked.

"As soon as the guns carry," Fred said and spied ahead.

"We won't bother with a shot across the bow, Captain; we'll put it right through…" George replied with his trademark ear-splitting grin.

Meanwhile, they had closed in to about seven or eight miles, and from the look of it, the other ship was still clueless. That flag they hoisted had been procured from a merchant that had been captured a few years ago and proved invaluable to their pirate friends ever since. Harry nearly had a fit when Molly pointed out that it bore a slightly modified Malfoy coat of arms.

A short survey later, he knew the five predominant flags of merchantman fleets and the coat of arms they sported. Malfoy, Bulstrode, Parkinson, Crabbe and Davis. Four public Death Eaters and one probably closeted one.

All qualms he had with the pirate business ended once he knew whom he would be robbing. To his surprise, Hermione mirrored his decision without any argument.

 _ **ooOOoo**_

By the time they had closed up to about a mile, the Carrots were done with their preparations. Harry wondered if the other vessel had the slightest inkling what was going on behind them. They might have noticed the Revenge approaching fast, but with a Malfoy Merchant Fleet flag flying proudly, they probably attributed it up to better quality shipyards than their standard vessel.

Just to be sure, Harry had cut the wind at one and a half mile to keep them from noticing and giving the ship and him a breather, spending it driving the Carrots mad by watching them getting their guns in order.

"Permish'n to shivver dem timbers, Cap'tn," George snarled as he approached Harry.

"Don't you dare!" Harry growled. "You guys can strip them down to a hulk, if you want to, but leave the hull alone. I'd love you to take their mizzen off, but I'm glad for whatever makes them slower."

"Aye Capt'n, we'll get choppin'," George said, snapping a salute.

Five minutes later, the twins sent their first salvo downrange. Fred's ball and chain went short, falling into the water, more than 50 yards before the ship, while George's ball went straight through their sails, punching holes.

"Raise the flag, maybe they are clever enough to yield," Harry barked, while the twins yelled at their crew to reload their guns.

Before the confusion on the other ship could subside, they sent another charge out of their barrels. One ball went far to port, passing the boat, the chain whirring, while the other went through their running rigging, with no way to tell if it caused damage at this distance.

Meanwhile, Harry could see flags being hoisted up on their prey. "Cease fire! I need a readout!" he yelled, his cries getting relayed up at the man in the mast. "Are they yielding?"

A few moments later, he got his reply. "Flags read: Negative. Stop carrying out your intentions and watch for my signals," Higgs reported.

Harry was baffled. "What? Really?" he asked, staring over at the boat, to make sure it hadn't doubled in size, spontaneously, while another message was handed over to Remus. "Next sign: You are running into danger. You should stop your vessel instantly," he read out.

"I'm not sure captain, are they telling us to give up and prepare to be boarded?" George asked, scratching his head, as they watched the vessel fall off the wind to come about.

"Are they insane? They are attacking!" Harry gasped.

"Pureblood superiority complex," Remus quipped.

"How the heck are they still afloat with balls this size," Fred laughed. "Should we still get their masts?"

"Hell no! Get to your batteries and get your men ready for battle!" Harry cursed, taking off back to helm with Hermione and Remus in tow.

"Higgs! These blind moles believe they can fight us. Win us the windward!" He ordered his Second Mate at the wheel, who took a brief look at the ship ahead while the twins took off.

"No problem, Captain. They are in no position to get there, or we will cross them astern. They won't be that crazy, that'd be suicide. You'll have the wind on your side," he answered calmly, reaching out to change course slightly. "We should pass in about ten to fifteen minutes, depending in how well they come around. How far do you want to pass?"

"How many guns do they have, again?" Harry asked in return.

"No more than eighteen under deck, most certainly 18 pounds apiece, maybe half again on deck, probably 9 or 12 pounds," Higgs replied what he knew.

"So it's about twelve guns against our two dozen for a broadside," Harry replied, thinking about his options. "I like these numbers, but I don't want this to be a drawn out battle where the hostages could get harmed."

"No problem, Captain. I'd eat a hat if they last two 'sides from us," Higgs replied. "They tacked well, ten minutes till we're alongside, so better come up with a plan, quickly. If it includes riddling them with holes and trimming their masts, I'm all for it."

"Keep us a really close, Mister Higgs," Harry commanded, taking the advice in stride. "Make them a nice target for us, alright?"

"Aye, Sir!"

"Tell the Carrots I want ball shot to reduce splintering!" Harry instructed Remus, who acted as the runner between the gun decks and the helm due to his never-ending stamina. "Both decks target their guns, I demand each ball sitting in one of their gun ports, upper deck is to fire apiece and aimed, after lower deck has softened them up. Fire when the ship is on upswing. I don't want any shots below their battery deck, or that crew will answer to me," he finished his instructions, and the man set off at a mad dash.

"Hermione! No canister - load your deck guns with ball and chain shot, fire a rolling salvo aimed at their mizzen mast when we pass. We need to stop them to board!" he concluded his instructions, having nothing left to do than watch his wife run off and instruct her men, and wait for the battle to be joined.

Five minutes later, the _Raven_ had completed its pass and was lying on reciprocal course. With a few small corrections, the _Revenge_ had gained the windward position, and both ships were only a minute or two away from contact.

"Tonks, have all men duck behind the railing on the pass, I don't want to lose anybody to a stray shot," Harry sent Tonks off, while Remus returned and snapped a cheeky salute. "Aye captain, the Carrots confirm and promise to let the pieces spit as loud and unerring as possible."

"Fine," Harry replied with a smile and turned to look at their opponent, who had finished the turn and had closed in to less than half a mile. "BRACE FOR IMPACT! HOLD FAST!" he yelled his final instructions, be fore he took a last look at Hermione standing thirty feet ahead on the middle deck. "Merlin help us," he whispered softly.

 _ **ooOOoo**_

Less than two minutes later, the ships' bows were passing each other in opposite direction, both crews holding their breaths as the two wooden hulks slid into the optimal position to discharge their full weaponry at the other. At the distance of less than 200 feet, they were too far apart for spell casting, but it was nearly impossible that they would miss each other with the guns. The _Raven_ , being smaller, had the advantage of having their guns all lined up to the bigger target first.

Harry's men all crouched behind the reeling as the guns in the flanks of the enemy ship released their load with a series of bangs and bright flashes.

As soon as the last gun had discharged, they felt the shudder of multiple impacts in their hull. To Harry, it felt like a bout of nausea as the ship greedily drew on his core to replenish the lost energy. He gasped and shuddered, but pushed Remus' helping hands away. "I'm alright. I just need to get accustomed to this."

The light shot and small number of pieces of their enemy proved to be insufficient. They had failed to hit a gun or a gun port, and the _Revenge_ 's shielding was much too strong to allow the hull to be damaged by their small calibre. The deck guns had used canister shot, as he had expected, but all of it rushed useless over the heads of the well hidden crew. Only a few men took bruises by ricochets bouncing off the masts, but nothing noteworthy. About the time the metal hail rushed over their heads, the first battery of the _Revenge_ bellowed their answer as the crew raised from behind their cover.

Much to their joy, their own salvo was a success. Most of the lower deck guns had found their target, more than half of them breaking apart on the other ship's planks as the last remains of their reservoir's charge were expended into the unbreakability warding, before it failed. Each of the following massive iron balls punched a hole in the planking and rushed through the deck behind, before exiting at the other side, destroying everything in its path.

Some balls managed hitting an open gun port, smashing the gun behind it to smithereens, the pieces ricocheting through the deck, maiming and killing. Harry could only imagine the carnage this was causing among the men in these decks. Although there was no way he could possibly hear it above the din of guns and the splintering wood, he could swear that he had heard people scream in pain. Much to his concern, a few shots had gone errant and had hit lower than the gun deck. He hoped that the prisoners had taken cover and were well.

Their second deck discharged when their lee side rolled up again in the tide. The lighter guns found their targets and punched straight through the hull, leaving head-sized holes in the sides of the hull and nothing between the walls standing. A few stragglers, the astern guns, sounded later, when their guns finally lined up with an intact gun port, or something else worth poking a hole into. When the noise ceased, about half of the men under deck on the _Raven_ were dead or dying, the others wounded and only every third gun still operational.

While the straggler guns had opened fire, just as the _Revenge's_ helm passed the stern of the _Raven_ , he heard Hermione yell from the middle deck, and another ear-splitting rolling cacophony of bangs sounded, followed by the whistle of chain shot as one gun after the other discharged at the sight of the assigned target. Most shots were off, as they madly whirled across the small gap between the gun and the target, the chain whistling as it spun between to two small iron balls at either end, ripping the rigging and blowing a few profoundly unlucky men into the sea. But when the they passed the mizzen, they could see that at least one of these hit the mizzen mast about four feet above the deck, cleaving mostly through, and got stuck in the remaining third.

As the _Revenge_ pulled clear, her unscathed hull stomping in the stern wave of the other vessel now resembling a plucked chicken instead a proud raven, a loud moaning and creaking was heard from the other ship as the mast started buckling and swaying under the pressure of the sail. Had either the standing rig or the mast survived unscathed, it might have held up, but as the mast leaned forward, with a series of snaps, the damaged starboard let go and the mast slowly dropped overboard, still mostly connected by the leeward rigging, forcing the ship to careen and swing off course before coming to a stop, under the loud cheers of the _Revenge's_ crew members.

"Helmsman! Change tack, veer for boarding! Mister Hitch - have them back-brace the canvas once we've come around! Bring us alongside!" Harry yelled, and the ship exploded into action as everybody started pulling on various ropes under the commanding voice of Hitch and the group leaders. It took only a minute for the _Revenge_ to careen into the turn.

"All hands prepare for boarding; I want the deck guns loaded with canister shot, tell them to fire as soon as we are along, and then throw the hooks. No one leaves cover until the guns have spoken," Harry told Hermione as they approached the now motionless ship. Hermione quickly relayed his orders to the men. Harry didn't want to make any concessions.

"Tonks!" Harry shouted, causing the woman in question to appear. "Get all hands on deck for boarding and tell them that I offer triple prize money out of my own chest if no hostage is harmed. And a first boarder share for those who reach the prisoners first."

"Will do, Harry - that will surely motivate the guys," Tonks smiled before she set off to talk to the men assembling. Tradition demanded that the first man to set foot on an enemy vessel received a double share and first pick. Extending that privilege to the first to reach the prisoners would certainly be helpful to set their priorities. Also, with a triple share, Harry had practically told them that he would add half again the value on the whole ship and cargo before dividing up the plunder only among the crew. This alone would make them do their best; normally they would only receive half the plunder to share.

While the crew was informed by Tonks, and according to the roars of glee, very happy about the Captain's decision, Hermione had returned to Harry's side. When the turn manoeuvre was completed and they were on course, Harry addressed Hermione softly.

"Hermione, you'll take the helm during boarding. I'll give you five men to keep the others from sneaking over and damage the _Revenge_. You are also tasked to do sniper duty from here."

"I'll come with you," Hermione stated, making Harry frown at her.

"Honey, this is a fight, a real battle, and quarter neither given nor taken. I know you want to rush for your parents the moment you see a gap, but you also know the rules. No one leaves the main fray to go scavenging until the fight is over. If you turn from the fight, you will dance under the whip, just like anyone else," Harry stated coldly, causing Hermione to gasp. The usual punishment for that were forty lashes with the cat-o'-nine-tails, and it was quite possible to die under that punishment. Hermione gasped in shock when he told her this.

"Darling, this is real, if one of us runs, others might follow, and could cause the whole line to break. That could cause a lot of our men to die. The rules are for that reason alone. If you chose to fight, you are in till the bloody end. I can't have you under different rules than the others!" Harry told her. "I know you want to help, but this is serious, and you are no front line fighter - you duel just fine on your own if you can concentrate on one target, but you have tunnel vision. This will be a mass slaughter, shooting, hacking, stabbing, and biting. Anything to kill everyone in sight," he said as he embraced her in a hug. "You're not made for that, and I'll be damned if I don't do my best to keep you that way."

"And I can't focus if you are in harm's way. I need you somewhere safe." he whispered in her ear.

With a small sob, Hermione nodded. "You're right, but they are my parents. I'll join you," she insisted stubbornly.

"Alright, my little Amazon, it's your decision," Harry sighed as he caressed her cheek. "I give you special orders. Tonks, Remus, you take her under your wings. Take care of her and go for their helm. Give us suppression fire from up there. Use banishers and other non-lethal things - I don't want one of our own guys hurt if someone dodges. You are free to go for the hostages as soon as they are down; I'll join the main group. Good luck and most of all, stay safe. Your parents would never forgive us if one of us dies to save them," he gave his orders. Tonks nodded her understanding, knowing very well that this was also to allow Hermione to go for her parents as soon as possible, while simultaneously putting her furthest away from the fight and any entry to the ship's hold.

When they moved off to their position, Harry held Remus back for a word.

"Remus, please watch over Hermione," he asked his mentor in a whisper.

"With my life, Harry," Remus replied as he grabbed Harry's shoulder and squeezed it.

"I know, I meant something else. You know how she is - if she even thinks about rushing it, stun her, bind her, whatever, but don't let the men see her break rank; I couldn't stand to see her get punished, but the men won't stand for it," he pleaded.

"You can trust me," Remus said with another squeeze of Harry's shoulder. "If I have to sit on her, I will," he told his godson.

"Thanks," Harry said, hugged the man, and then left for the middle deck, where the deck guns had just spread their deadly hail over the _Raven_ 's decks and the first hooks started flying, sealing the fate of the plucked _Raven_.

 _ **ooOOoo**_

With a loud roar, the crew of the Revenge exploded into motion, wands blazing, raining spells and gunfire onto the defenders behind their shields. Harry was among the first to enter the ship, Rapier in his right and battlewand in his left. He immediately discharged a _reducto_ curse into the wall of defenders, blasting one man apart despite the shielding, creating an opening for another man to slip in a cutting curse while everyone rushed into melee range.

The sailor ahead and to the right of Harry aimed his wand at the approaching Harry, but with a quick swipe, Harry's blade had cut the wand in two, and a second later a spell from behind Harry threw the man back, his face covered in burns. One of Harry's men to his left fell with a painful yell from a cutting curse to the chest, and Harry reacted instinctively, casting a shield to reflect some curses and drove his blade into the attacker's chest, as everybody started hacking and casting at closest range.

Meanwhile, Tonks rolled back to her feet on the Raven's upper deck, sending a piercing course into the back of the helmsman that fought from that position. Sending a cutting curse into the fallen man to be sure, she re-casted the cushioning charm on the ship's deck, and signalled Remus to throw Hermione over from the slightly higher poop deck of the Revenge. While Hermione crossed the six meters with a screech, Tonks took a perimeter near the deck railing, assessing the situation.

The battle had come to melee range, the defenders had felled some of the boarders, but they were outnumbered about three to one. Also, most of them were already shaken and wounded from the bombardment they had received, and their morale was low. Their line was steadily moving backwards, and the middle, where Harry was smiting them like an angry god, the line was nearly broken, and only a wonder would stop the forming wedge being driven through their defence.

Confronted with a force of nature like Harry, whose spells felled the target and sometimes even the man behind him, the men in the centre either gave ground, or tried to push towards the flanks, out of Harry's line of fire.

If they had held their line, they might have had the advantage of bottlenecking the attackers, but with having their middle destabilized within mere seconds into the attack, they were currently in progress of being split into two groups and thus surrounded, allowing even more of Harry's men to join the fray.

A second later she heard the thump of Remus landing on the deck, and both of her companions joined her. The defenders had already been split, with Harry driving the larger force in their direction. "Bludgeoning hex barrage, aim short, they are constantly giving ground. We don't want to hit our own," she said, pointing at the group of enemies backing into them, giving ground to their men. "Now!" she bellowed, and all three of them started to rain their hexes into their unprotected backs.

When the stern group came under fire from the helm position, the group collapsed within seconds under the cross fire. The remaining group of attackers split up and began swarming the deck, about half of them reinforcing their comrades in the fight avast, while a handful started to tend to their wounded. The bow group of defenders buckled under the increasing pressure and surrendered soon after. By that time, Hermione's group had already slipped down into the ship's belly.

Harry didn't know about that when he descended down into the ship's bunt, behind some other of his men. The light filtering in through the huge number of holes in the hull left nothing of the gory detail invisible as he waded through the dismembered parts of the gun crew casualties. Ignoring the moans from some still barely alive men and keeping his urge to get sick under control, he continued to look for the captives, occasionally slipping on the blood soaked wood, while his men took care of the survivors, administering mercy.

Finding the stair down to the bilge, he carefully climbed down into the area, which was already half filled with water. _'The impacts must have shaken the plank seams loose, or maybe they had scored an underwater hit for it to fill that fast,'_ he thought as he climbed down into the murky water.

Losing no time, he waded into the direction of the stern, where the brig should be located, following after his men.

Getting there, he was immediately greeted by a sobbing Margret wrapped around Hermione, while Henry and fifteen other men were being freed by his crew members.

When Henry was freed, he came over to join the hug, while some more crew members arrived to help with the prisoners, who were freed from the chains, but their hands were kept in irons until they could be questioned on deck.

"I know you are a dentist, but maybe you want to close your eyes while we lead you up," Harry told Margret with a short glance at Henry. "You really don't want to see this."

 _ **ooOOoo**_

Back on deck, Harry left the adult Grangers in the teary hug of her daughter as he went to collect reports.

A quarter of the men had been hurt in some way, five of them were seriously wounded, one dead. The tally would have been worse if not for Remus and Tonks. Their healing skills were way beyond the crew's abilities, and the had managed to stabilize these five, and patch up a lot more who would have been off just as bad without their help. Of the defenders, only eleven out of a crew of forty five survived, four wounded heavily, the others to some degree. Mister Hitch advised Harry to execute them, but Harry refused to kill harmless people, and decided to maroon them on a small boat from the _Raven_. One was still mostly intact, and could be fixed with a few spells. It would be a tight fit, but then, they were in visual range of the coast. Having had enough killing for a day, Harry gave orders to patch them up, stun them and obliviate them of the whole last week before letting them drift away. The crew grumbled about the new Captain being too soft, but complied, which Harry took as a sign that they started trusting his lead.

"Send a man up into the _Revenge_ 's top nest; I want a running commentary on the harbour!" he told Higgs, and left to return to his girl and friends, while the other crew members started levitating the dead overboard and dealing with the still living.

When he had approached the group and joined the hug, the man on the mast top sang out. "Activity in harbour, ships are manning!"

Harry cursed as he heard that. He hoped that the brief battle might not have been noticed by the lazy harbour guard, but they had been too close to escape notice. He had to make a quick decision.

"Take helm of the _Raven_ ," Harry told Hermione, squeezing her hand. "Take your parents and 10 men with you. Select them for repair abilities and take the injured, as well. Use freezing charms to stop leakage, and conjure plugs for bigger holes. Get some guys to sew up the sails and _reparo_ the remaining rigging. Bring that damned mast back up or cut the rigging and go without, I don't care, but get the hell out of here and meet with the Pathfinder. They are about an hour or two away. They will get you to Black Reef. You should be able to meet them in under an hour if you hurry."

"And you?" she asked, knowing the answer already. She knew the facts as well as he did. And she knew that his stupid people saving thing was acting up again.

Harry glanced over at the harbour. By now, it could be seen from deck that there was increasing activity aboard the ships there, men crawling in the rigging like nits in an orphan's mop. It would take only twenty minutes, thirty tops, before the first one would push off and start chasing them. Then maybe fifteen minutes for each to get out of the harbour and set full sails.

He couldn't outrun them, not under the current conditions, even with his magical wind, since some of them were considerably faster than the old hulk that the _Revenge_ was. They would stall him long enough for the heavy hitters to arrive. They would then proceed to make mincemeat out of them.

"I'll block the Harbour and try sinking one of the ships in the harbour's mouth to trap them."

"I'll stay," she said, more out of stubbornness than conviction. Harry just shook his head and gave her cheek a caress, which she leaned in, her eyes closing.

"No, you're not. This is no place for you. I haven't risked everything just to lose it now. Even with the boost to our reservoir and our strategic better position at the bottleneck, it will be a bloody massacre, double so if we get boarded. We will cope and hold the position, by hook or by crook, but I want to know you are safe."

"I know. Stay safe," she said with a hitch in her voice, before they gave in to a heated kiss that was drawn out longer than it should be, but not long enough to say all they wanted to, before they separated, each going to attend to their duties.

 _ **ooOOoo**_

 _ **AN:**_

Yes, yes, I'm back... Stop that... No more applause... Thank you...

SILENCE!

After acting like a prude for a couple of months, my muse finally gave in and not only kissed me, but celebrated a veritable orgy, with a couple of her friends joining in. Thus, I now did not only write a bit for this, but also for a couple of other stories, which means that right now, every other day, I'm following some different lewd enticing muse into her lair, hoping it may be worth my time.

It may or may not, but I do expect offspring.

A merry Christmas to all of you.

Enjoy it, read slowly, for I don't know when I'll post the next one, yet.


	2. Portblockin'

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

 **In enemy waters**

By DerLaCroix

 **Chapter 2 – Portblockin'**

Harry again stood on the poop deck and conjured his wind, whipping the Revenge forward. He was ten minutes way from the harbour entrance when the man in the mast sang out. "Sail in the entrance!"

Cursing, Harry started giving commands. "All guns ready, load the deck guns with canister shot - if they pass us, we will give them a taste - have the chaser guns open fire at will, I'll cancel the wind the moment we're in range," he told Hitch before turning to Tonks as the man departed to bark orders. "Have the lookout identify the size! And give report about the _Raven_ ," he tasked her.

While Tonks started a sonorous-enhanced conversation with the man on the mast – a man who didn't need a spell to make himself heard, and probably didn't know the spell, anyway - Harry called Remus over. "What do you think? Do you have any idea on how to block the harbour that is better than just ramming our ship into the entry?"

Remus thought for a moment before he stepped away and checked the real wind. "How about that - let's use a modified Woodbroke Sling move. We have wind from starboard athwart, so let's approach a bit starboard of the entrance and sling ourselves into position with the help of the wind. But instead of gripping the goalpost or hoop, we drop the anchor. With you re-enforcing the reservoir, the chain should hold. This should have us broadside to the entrance, and we can hit a ship for at least five minutes before it can try to slip past us."

"Good idea, that would also give us the advantage that they can only use their chaser guns on us," Harry said, pulling his mentor and former Marauder into a one armed hug. "I want you at the bow by the anchor. You will give the signal and the orders. Coordinate with Hitch, he knows the manoeuvres to bring us around better. Good luck, and see you after the fight, this is an order!" he said with a final hug, and Remus trotted off to carry out his plan.

Tonks approached with the news. "It's a corvette, smaller than the _Raven_ , but much faster. It carries only deck guns, but 14 of them. The _Raven_ has only twelve guns still operating, most of them on starboard, but not enough power to really use them, even if they had the men sprinting between them to operate them. By the looks of it, the decks are swarming with men, easily half as many as we have - they must have put every available man on their boats. They have cleared the harbour and have raised full sails, heading windward; it's obvious that they want to and can pass us, and chase the _Raven_. The next boat in the channel leave is another corvette, same build," she reported to the worried Harry.

"And the _Raven_?"

"They have come free of the mast just a few moments ago, and gathered way, but they are slow. Hermione has five wounded that barely can move, but ten of our men and five of the released prisoners that were vouched by our crew and gave loyalty oaths. They also have two men among the survivors that were pressed into duty. They gave oaths, as well. They should make it; the _Pathfinder_ is less than an hour out of their position. If they had a man in the mast, they might see them already. Ginny is informed and has confirmed escort and rescue orders. If need be, they'll abandon the _Raven_ and sink her."

The sound of the chaser guns opening fire interrupted their conversation. They must be about one mile out if the gunners even tried. Harry cancelled the wind charm and stepped to the starboard side to look at the enemy. The men had been prepared for that moment and immediately swung the yardarms around into the new position to the real wind. "Any idea we could help?" he asked.

"We could force them into an exchange," the returning Hitch voiced an option. "If we steer directly at them, they would be forced to change course to avoid us. We won't get them, but get in proper range. They are small, a proper broadside would almost wipe 'em off the surface."

"Should we talk to Remus? Would that mess up his plan?" Harry asked.

"Quite a bit. The second boat might give us the slip and leave harbour before we make it back. If they harass or board us, the delay may allow a true warship to leave the harbour. It's a tight race already, but we currently are ten minutes in the lead. But if one of the big ships gets out, they'll squish us like a bug, by numbers alone."

Harry had to think about it a bit. If they did that, they would do a bit more damage, helping the _Raven_. But winning that battle might mean losing the war if the second boat slipped free. Sighing deeply, he made his decision.

"Stay on course, but keep as close as possible to the boat, give them all we have from the lee batteries, but keep our men behind the reeling. We need every man. How many do we have, anyway?"

"Good decision, Captain," Hitch answered while Tonks muttered happily about Harry's ability to be trained. There wasn't much to gain with that manoeuvre, and the second ship slipping out would be even worse for the _Raven_. He had to let go and trust everybody else to do their job. "We have fifty-seven including you three and the other ten freed prisoners, Captain," Higgs briefed him. "Two of them are Squibs or in-the-know Muggles, but they insisted in helping, so we equipped them with guns and swords we could spare. Tired as our men are, they'll probably have to resort to melee as well, I doubt they'd get more than a couple of spells off before being exhausted. Some of them have passed their wands to prisoners, who are at least fresh."

"Good, let's plan around that and hope for the best." Harry said and looked at the now barely a mile ahead and four hundred feet athwart boat his family tried to get away in.

The chaser guns sounded once more, targeting the enemy corvette still in the harbour, more than a mile ahead, and falling short, as the other vessel left their firing arc.

 _ **ooOOoo**_

As the other ship slipped into their starboard arc, nearly half a mile out, they gave her a broadside in passing once it lined up. They did score a few hits, and gave it's reservoir a good whack, but not causing much real damage at that range, except for hitting a couple of men, according to the lookout. Harry even cast a few of his own Reductors at the ship, but at that range, he only managed to hit their hull a couple of times, and putting a couple of holes into their main course sail. As much as Harry would have liked, there was simply no time to do more; the _Raven_ was on it's own regarding that enemy.

As he had to watch the ship sail past them and after the _Raven_ , Remus approached him. "Harry," the man spoke softly, trying to speak to him in private. When Harry turned towards him, he continued in a soft whisper. "I've seen your spells sail past that ship. At what range do you reckon it fizzled?"

"About twice as far?" Harry replied. "Why?"

Remus pushed a looking glass into Harry's hands and pointed towards their destination. "Splendid. Because there are, by my count, a dozen very heavy guns posted on the walls and towers next to the harbour entry, and now that they realized that we're not chasing that boat or running away as they most likely expected us to do, I don't like how many men are assembling next to them," he said in a seemingly jovial tone.

"Now our guns can't aim that far up and away. And because I'd prefer getting the chance to see if the anchor manoeuvre works, instead of getting sunk while still roughly a mile out, I'd strongly advise you to see if that estimation holds true," he continued in the same sweet voice while Harry confirmed for himself that there were indeed guns with terrifyingly large bores visible up there, now that a lot of people had been moving tarps off, and hauling ammunition towards them.

"These rat-faced sons of harbour whores!" Harry cursed as he rushed off to the bow, surprising Remus as well as himself with what vocabulary he had picked up during the last months.

"Ahoy, Capt..." Fred started when he noticed Harry approaching. His words turned into a surprised croak when Harry whipped out his battle wand and let loose with an unrestrained Reductor curse, right next to him.

"Holy son of a mermaid!" George gasped out loud as he saw the curse impact on the battlements, turning it into a dust cloud with heavy gravel downpour. "Nice one, Harry, but your aim is terrible," he said, sending another ball flying towards the ship slowly gaining on the harbour entrance from the other side.

"Not quite," was the barked response from his angry Captain, who tossed him the looking glass, before sending another spell at a different part of the wall.

George uttered a really creative curse when he noticed how men scattered to take cover behind the wall when another tip of the battlements exploded into shards. A different gun crew was the first to return fire, but hastily and wide. Others followed, just as badly. A hit on the first try would have been a miracle. Their next attempts were just as useless, for they didn't have much time to aim properly when Harry started blanketing all gun positions in rapid fire, rapidly reducing their cover to rubble and making them very reluctant to expose themselves while loading their guns.

On third attempt, though, about half scored hits. Harry briefly gasped and swayed as the child's head sized iron balls glanced off the Revenge's bow and starboard side. Wisely, they had not ran out the guns, yet, so they didn't lose any to a lucky hit. Still, the strain on Harry was significant, and he needed a few seconds to regain footing. Taking time to aim properly, he blasted one of the guns that was pretty exposed by now to splinters on his second spell.

By the time the Revenge had slipped into their blind spot where they couldn't depress their guns any lower, Harry had already taken out 8 of them. Even under that heavy suppressing fire, they had hit the ship a good two dozen times, though. To paraphrase it lightly, Harry would say 'it stung'. The strengthened reservoir had managed to deflect all the thirty-six to forty-two pound heavy balls of iron, but subrogated against Harry, with interest. The only lasting damage was when a ball bounced off the fore topmast and took out the yardarm. It did slow them down, slightly, but they didn't have any time to repair that, now. In case that they'd have to, they'd cut the remaining rig that held the sail and would let it fly. They lost one man to that hit, a snapping line whipped around and hit him hard, sending him overboard. Remus had levitated the man back on deck, but he was already dead.

Harry took delight in placing a few more aimed shots to remove the remaining guns from the table for their way out while Hitch barked commands at the men to initiate Remus' plan.

Savouring the brief respite, he watched the carrots send their last set of balls towards the ruined forecastle of the corvette that had meanwhile entered the harbour waterway. It must have been frustrating to not being able to bring their own guns to bear while methodically getting picked apart by the twins' diabolical iron hail. By the time the angle was right for them, there had been no guns left to respond with. Both balls missed the fore mast by a few hands, smashing into the wall raising the aft deck above the main.

The twins didn't stay to watch, but were already vanishing under deck as the entrance swayed to starboard as the ship turned in to backboard. Harry could feel the deck shiver as they brought the sails against the wind to swing around faster. A few moments later, they were parallel to the wall, turning further. Harry found his eyes sought out Remus at the anchor, just as anyone else's did. A few more seconds passed, and suddenly, Remus yelled to drop the anchor. Just a perceived fraction of a second later, Higgs exploded into a storm of commands, ordering the helm to go full starboard, demanding the sail timbers swung , and then for everyone to hold fast. Just a little less polite.

Meanwhile, Harry's attention was riveted to the anchor chain as it rushed by overboard like it had become liquid. Then - the men were just bringing the yardarms around - the chain suddenly stopped when the end was reached. That was the precise moment Higgs yelled for everyone to hold fast, and for Harry to ponder if he had been a fool to agree with this plan. At first, he imagined that he could almost hear the anchor scraping across the bottom, seeking purchase. Which was exactly what happened. Only that it was going to be a much more violent reaction than anything he would have expected.

With a sound like a whole wood splintering when hit by an angry god, the anchor found something to lodge itself to, firmly. Suddenly not able to follow its straight course any longer, the Revenge had to follow the laws of physics. Harry would have been amazed to see the ship bend visibly along its entire length as a few hundred tons in motion were suddenly redirected, swung around on the unbreakable chain, which was screeching out its own protest as each link ground against the others. But he was too occupied fighting the dry heaves he experienced as his magic was pouring into the reservoir to allow the wooden structure to withstand forces that would have shattered steel.

Under curses and shouts of the men trying to keep their footing, the Revenge finally came to a stop facing the direction she had originally come from. The baffled stares of the crew of the small boat currently trying to leave the harbour turned into panic as the amazement of the manoeuvre the Revenge just pulled off gave way to the realization that they were now staring into its broadside.

The twins reacted before the other crew could, not as if they had any options than keep moving towards them in the narrow waterway they were currently in. If their forecastle hadn't been a shattered mess, already, they might have given token resistance by firing their chaser guns, but as the Revenge's crew carried out the twin's orders, 438 pounds worth of iron balls smashed into them. Some ploughed through them, lengthwise, others at an angle, a few glanced off the hull or missed.

Harry could see the other captain yell commands at people, but it was too late. Before his orders - Harry assumed it was an order to use guns and wands to resist, going by the fact that rifles were handed out - were carried out, a second broadside sounded, repeating the experience. Going by the fact that their main was now leaning slightly leeward in a queer angle, it must have been severed under deck.

By virtue of being closer, even more balls had glanced off the hull. The twins compensated for that by firing a Reductor salvo, next. These spells would have very short range, but by now, they had closed in to less than 200 feet. The comparative quiet of a Reductor salvo was balanced by the sound of disintegrating wood as each connecting spell blew a hole of roughly a yard diameter into the already compromised hull of their enemy.

In the end, too much damage was done to the supporting structure. With a sound oddly comparable to eating breakfast cereal, the bow simply ceased to exist as the water resistance tore it apart, with the whole bow practically disassembling up to almost in front of the main in front of their eyes. The rest followed the wind, capsized leeward and sank as if made of stone, accompanied by the Revenge's crew's cheers, the few people that remained able to act jumping overboard and trying to escape drowning.

For a brief moment, Harry imagined he could see the other captain saluting him from the wheel before the boat started leaning, but it was over so quickly that he'd never know for sure.

Watching the bubbling water swirl and spit out parts of wreckage, cargo and drifting bodies for sharks to circle, Harry briefly hoped it was over.

"One down, one to go,' Higgs commented next to him. Harry had to briefly shake his head to fight off the fascination of the scene unfolding in front of him and pay attention to the man who had come over to talk to him.

'No need to stay at the wheel, 'cept to hide behind it, and twixt the both of us, I think they got better angle at that than here," Higgs gave something approximating an explanation for his presence.

The bark of the guns below them made Harry gaze back out again. A few hundred yards out, the wooden colossus of a warship slowly turned towards them, the iron balls bouncing off its hull as if made of rubber.

"With luck, we might get their chasers silenced before they get too many shots off, but I'd wager my left buttock that bastard is gonna plow straight through the wreck an ram us," Higgs replied before clearing his throat with a nasty hack, and spitting a wad of phlegm overboard. "I guess they outnumber us three or four to one. Any great strategy for that?" He asked.

"You mean to say tactic," Remus corrected the man as he approached them, Tonks in tow. "Strategy is planing when to fight, tactics is how to win the battle."

"Bite me, professor," Higgs replied with a chuckle that made him cough up another glob to send flying overboard. "Well, got any of those tactics, guv?" He asked in a sarcastic tone after he was done polluting the sea.

"The men are only useful as gunslingers or brawlers by now," Tonks remarked. "Are you up to go front and centre, Captain? Leading from the front? They can only board over their bow, so we have to stop them at that bottleneck."

Remus nodded at her comment. "Makes the most sense. The enemy will most likely be more proficient spellcasters than our men, but only barely. We need to see this like a medieval muggle repelling action. Historically, they were best fought in threes. Caster, defender, support," he started mentioning the non-boring part of history.

"You mean us three should work together," Harry inquired if he had gotten it right.

"Indeed. You focus on targets, while I keep a shield up against projectiles. Tonks will watch out for spells to counter and targets of opportunity. Once my shield wavers, Tonks will cast hers, and I'll take support role," Remus explained.

"Tonks and Remus do fancy stuff keeping Harry save. Harry smash," Tonks replied, briefly morphing into a green-skinned muscular version of herself.

"That's all nice and fancy, but their forecastle is higher than our sides," Higgs voiced his opinion, pointing out a flaw he deemed critical. "If we don't get that levelled, they'll have high ground, and I'd rather... ALL HANDS! TAKE COVER!"

While yelling his warning, he pulled Harry and Tonks with him, diving behind the railing. Remus barely had time to follow before their foe's chaser guns spat a hail of lead balls, spraying the ship. The other captain seemed to have come to the conclusion that it was useless to try damaging the Revenge, but rather wanted to clear her decks for boarding, instead. At that distance, the spread was huge, impacting all over the ship. You had to be a profoundly unlucky git to get hit by it, but a yell from the main deck meant that they had at least one of those on board.

"Francis!" Higgs yelled from their cover, getting a grunted reply. "Take these fishfuckers out with the deck guns, now! And send all men not needed to the poop or fore, rifle fire, two guns per man! I want them bilge rats just as afraid to poke out their heads as we are!"

After receiving a muffled 'Aye', he waited a few moments, before yelling again. "Is the poor bastard still alive?"

"Aye, just got hit by a ricochet! I'm fine! And MY parents were married!" Francis yelled back.

"Oops," Higgs mouthed with a grin. "So, you were talking about your plans, Captain?" He tried to rekindle their conversation, only to have the next metal rain pepper the ship around them.

"Francis! Today! Don't make me make you kiss the keel!" Higgs yelled, again.

Harry learned a new expletive with the man's reply, but moments later, the first men started scampering by, crouching low behind the railing and carrying two rifles, each. Taking a brief peek, himself, he could see how their deck guns were trying to take out the chaser guns pelting them. The fact that they were behind gun ports on that ship, instead of out in the open on the deck made that task non-trivial, at least. Even a near miss would just bounce off the hull, and their reservoir was still topped off to the brim, so to speak. Harry decided to send a Reductor over there before diving back, just to do something.

"Nice one, Captain," Higgs commented. "To cut things short - your idea is fine, but if you could use that beast wand of yours to raze their fore, I'd be considering kissing you. If they still have that cover, they'll just hide behind that and lob stuff down at us poor sobs."

"Got it," Harry replied. "I'll promise to wreck them if you promise not to kiss me, deal?"

Higgs laughed out loud, despite their precarious situation. "You're the one missing out, but deal. Now excuse me, I got to yell some more at these maggots, Captain."

Rushing over, while Harry started lobbing spells over the railing he hid behind, Higgs started to tear into the men. "Have you stupid scumgobblers forgot everything about rifles? Ten seconds for recharge! Firing, reloading, change rifle. Fire that, reload, and the other rifle is good to go, again. Now do what I said!"

True to his words, once the men started to use the rifles according to that instruction, their rate of fire almost doubled.

"At least you can be trained like the monkeys you are! I'll go and yell at the squid dicks at the poop, now. Don't make me come back or I swear, I'll rip off your balls and use them for shot!"

"He does have a way with the men, doesn't he?" Tonks asked sweetly, after Higgs had scampered out of hearing range, reloading the rifle she had claimed for herself. The enchantments did make it fire, but it wasn't possible to make it conjure a projectile, as well, so you had to manually insert the lead slug, every time. Remus chuckled slightly, then pulled the trigger of his rifle, cursing under his breath when the shot missed. Both would have preferred to use wands over the imprecise guns, but at this range, only Harry was able to do so, and have a still effective spell on contact.

"They are used to it. Any less, and they'd just laugh his orders off. I almost think it's kind of a contest, already. But Higgs told me once I should never be afraid to hex or thrash a man who doesn't follow my orders. Pecking order needs to be enforced, and stuff," Harry replied, firing spell after spell at the rough position of the gun ports the chaser guns retreated behind and closed after every shot, trying to expose their guns to the return fire as little as possible.

Taking a brief look over to their rear decks, he could see Higgs and a few men with long sticks rushing down the stairs and into his cabin. Pointing it out to the others, he got nothing but shrugs. About a minute later, the gun in there had started firing, again, and Remus laughed out, loud.

"That sly dog! They wrangled the gun into an angled position so it can be brought to bear. It seems to have worked only partially - I can see they use canister shot, and only barely hit the ship. They caught them complete unaware - seems they wiped their quarter deck clear. That evens the odds, a little," Remus gleefully commented on the fact that four dozen people wouldn't be coming home, tonight.

Harry's own smile turned into a confused look around when their crew whooped and cheered, suddenly. Confused, he shrugged it off and continued shooting, when his spell exploded a small hole into the planks right to the gun port he was aiming for. When the next volley of their guns rang out, he could see how they added a substantial number of holes to the few already visible ones that had caused his men's cheers.

"That's it! Shield down! Level their forecastle, Harry!" Tonks cheered, before shooting a man who had leaned out behind the cover of said obstruction to shoot them straight in the chest. The rifle and the man, both, dropped overboard as he collapsed.

Harry redoubled his efforts, casting spell after spell at the wooden behemoth closing in, taking out the chasers at the next time they were run out while his men were exchanging a pitched gunfight with men hiding behind the other vessel's forecastle railing. Meanwhile, he could see more and more men assembling on deck, and their broadsides getting quieter. Some of their battery could no longer aim at the other ship, and the twins had sent these men up to help repel boarders.

"It's time, let's go and lead the men," Remus remarked and put his rifle aside, drawing his wand and a cutlass. Tonks shook her head at her comrade's preference for cruder weaponry, and drew her own rapier and wand.

"Shield is up," Remus called out as he stood, the shimmering disc in front of him. Harry took position ahead and to the right of Remus, holding his wand right to the right of the shield. With Tonks behind him and watching out for threats, he returned to casting more and more spells at the approaching hull that between him and the two deck guns still able to fire rapidly resembled a Swiss cheese, depriving the enemy of cover.

Having line of sight, Tonks started taking out people with curses, only pausing to apply first aid to people that were hit.

A few first bullets ricocheted off their shield, and then spells started raining at them when the enemy realized that they were in casting range. Only few of them slipped past Tonks' counters, and were weakened by the long distance, but after a few seconds, Remus called out for a swap, which Tonks performed seamlessly, without disturbing Harry at dismantling the railing and the men cowering behind. Three of their riflemen from the lower main deck, which was under heavy fire, had caught on and took shooting positions behind their group, exchanging their bad line of sight at that position for a well defended position with a richer target environment. A fourth man had tried as well, but got shot by an enemy for his effort. Remus managed to stop the bleeding from the man's stomach, and wanted someone to carry him under deck to the other wounded, but the man refused and crawled to a new position near the still firing deck gun to resume his fighting.

With their losses increasing quickly under Harry's relentless bombardment and the more accurate rifle fire as the boat drew closer than a hundred yards, a lot of the would-be boarders on the approaching foredeck had to fall back to a lower deck.

In between spells, Harry thought that his line of sight on that deck had improved. A glance to check made him feel like it might have been due to the galleon lying very deep in the water, proving that the twins hadn't been idle. The bow riddled with more and more holes, the other ship was indeed slowly sinking, just not fast enough. By hearing, he felt that less than ten guns were still firing, including the deck gun next to them on the quarter deck, and one on the lower main deck. The other guns couldn't traverse properly to score hits.

"Harry, left corner, take the timber out! Remus, switch!" Tonks called out. Remus finished his tripping hex at a man running across the smashed fore, sending the man barrelling overboard as he lost footing, and stepped a half step forward and aside, casting a shield. "Shield up", he called out once his shield was taking the first bullets and stepped into Tonks' position once she had dropped her spell and stepped back.

Tonks wasted no time, countering a cutting hex before it could impact and weaken the shield, before retaliating with a spell that sent the caster diving for cover.

Meanwhile, Harry, ignoring the mounting pain in his hand as his wand grew hotter with every new spell, had walked his spells towards the target Tonks had assigned to him, but it took three spells to sever the beam completely. The reaction was instant. That beam was the last remaining structural support on that side, and the moment it was gone, the fore deck collapsed forward and to Harry's left, forming a deep slide of rubble, screaming fighters, and corpses dropping into the narrowing water between the two ships. The few men managing to hold on to something were less lucky than they believed. They slid down a few moments later, but as fresh corpses, and a good bit of lead heavier.

For a few moments, there was a lull in fighting as cries to hold fast rang out, everywhere, as the bowsprit of the galleon poked over the Revenge's railing, heralding the immediate impact. Harry dropped to a knee with a pained moan as the ships connected. His whole body was burning with pain, especially his hand, and every bit and fibre of his being demanding to just lay down and be done with it, but he numbly picked up his wand again, hissing as he realized how hot it was to the touch. Dropping it and cradling his hand he cursed under his breath while the ships ground into each other, the broken bow of the galleon hooking its wreckage into the Revenge, locking itself into place as the world shook.

"You alright?" Tonks asked in a concerned tone, knelt down next to him to care for, and cover him. Remus stepped a bit closer to improve the shield coverage, yelling at the men to form up to repel boarders, who could be heard yelling commands behind their cover, as well.

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled. "Wand is hot."

Tonks looked at the battle wand, which had a colour a few degrees darker than normal, and was smoking slightly at the tip. "That one's a goner. Use the other. Let me see your hand!"

"Harry!" She gasped as she saw the blisters and started casting spells at it. "Next time, drop it earlier!"

"Will do," Harry groaned as he pushed himself up, wobbly on his feet. There was a noticeable sigh of relief among his crew that he would continue to fight alongside them.

"Are you alright?" Tonks repeated her earlier question.

"No, you're not, but we need you," Remus interrupted sternly before Harry could deny the truth once more. "Cast slower, and smaller spells."

Harry accepted the order with a grim nod, flexing his patched-up hand before drawing his smaller wand and his rapier. "Hold your ground! Give them hell!" He yelled at his men, who whooped and shouted their own paroles. Somewhere, he could hear Higgs yelling that the second row should reload for the first row.

The lull in fighting went on for a few more moments, while the men got into a rough formation. All the time, you could hear the other side cheering themselves onto a frenzy, as well, and suddenly, the dam broke.

With primal war cries, the first of hundreds of foes came into sight as they scrambled over the wreckage, towards them, a wave of humans in his wake.

Tonks made the one in lead pay. His severed head hit a comrade in the face before his body had dropped. The following barrage as the Revenge's crew unloaded their guns dropped another baker's dozen or two. Harry started casting cutting curses into the mass, not bothering to aim properly, but to cast a steady stream of spells onto a steady stream of bodies. He was barely able to discern targets, anyway. His whole world had been reduced to a tired haze and the casting of that spell, and the increasing pain spreading throughout his body. Tonks joined him in his effort, casting furiously to make up for the difference.

Still, the mass of targets advanced, slowly. Occasional shots from the other side did their part in thinning their own ranks.

With only a few men to their left, the attacker's main push adjusted naturally towards that side, and Remus realized that they were about to be overrun at that flank. With only a brief warning to Tonks, he dropped his shield and started casting, as well.

Between him and Tonks proving why they were considered Masters in Defence and what an Auror could do, and the fact that Harry's spells usually got two or three targets at once, they barely managed to break the momentum of the rush of bodies for a brief period, establishing a fighting line along the impact, as the men engaged in hand to hand combat around them.

Trying to ease the pressure on the front, and wary to hit their own men, they shifted their fire into the approaching masses. Harry kept with his less exhausting cutting curses, but the other two went all out. Harry only recognized one in three spells Tonks used as she rained area affecting carnage down on the masses, fireballs, acid streams, and other effects from the right of Harry's corridor of dismemberment.

Remus took a lesson out of Harry's book and used a stream of fire to hose down his flank of attackers. It had the added effect that hit people tended to flail around or jump overboard, efficiently disrupting the re-enforcement of their line, allowing their men to hold the line more easily. It even created a few incidents of friendly fire as he made a few real blackpowder pistol charges ignite.

Sadly, his fire also served as a tracer to the most important targets. He went down with a painful gasp when a bullet impacted. Tonks screamed with range as he went down, clutching his side.

Harry had read about fiendfyre. It was deemed a very obscure thing, hard to cast, and even harder to control. Figures that a Black knew how to do it.

The whole front of the ship erupted in flames as Tonks sent a jet of the unholy flames into it, fiery creatures erupting and jumping at any living being in their path as they rushed towards the main and quarter deck of their enemy, following Tonks' control. A veritable cacophony erupted from back there as everything they touched, boat, ropes, men, and even cannons, erupted into flames on contact. Harry was aware that it had been only a few seconds, but that living flame spread far faster than it seemed possible. He had the feeling that Tonks tried to concentrate the effect on the main and fore deck, keeping a bit of distance, but still, the fire spread pretty much as if someone had spilled a bucket of it onto the ship.

"Tonks! Stop it, or you'll kill us all," Remus implored as he staggered back to his knees. "Not that I don't feel flattered," he chuckled, groaning painfully, and then sending a curse at a man who had just cut down one of theirs and tried to force the resulting breach.

"Dick!" Tonks snapped at him with a broken voice, but still used the even less known spell to dispel her fiendfyre. Not that it did the other ship any good, as all her sails were aflame, and her main deck an impenetrable flaming mess. The other ships heading their way in the channel hurried to swing their sails a-back to avoid the flaming hulk. One corvette was already far too close for that, and rather threw themselves against the rocks delimiting the waterway than into that inferno.

"I'm at most five percent dick, by body mass," Remus replied, pulling the wounded man he just had avenged towards him. "I'll swap to medic duty, from down here, if you don't mind," he commented with a rattled breath, before he started giving first aid.

By setting the other boat pretty much entirely on fire, Tonks had accomplished their main goal, but worsened their current situation. With the raging fire behind their backs, the remaining enemies pushed even harder towards them.

Harry's blade drew its first blood when the resulting push brought the main line of battle closer to them. With two combatants having themselves a shoving match, their blades locked, Harry broke the tie via stab to the face. Disregarding Remus' request, he pulled the man up to his feet, lest he got trampled. Tonks had already switched her sword to the right hand, occupying herself with supportive stabbing of opponents through gaps between fighters. Harry followed her lead.

A minute later, he was covered in blood, fighting a step behind some of his men. They had fallen in some kind of rhythm, as these men had realized that if they just focused on not getting hit, sooner or later, a spell or the captain's slender blade would slide past them to deal with their foe.

Hearing an anguished cry behind them, Harry found that some young bloke had actually been stupid enough to try and apparate to their deck. Or into, as he was splinch-fused to the deck by mid-shin, his feet probably still left on the other ship. Harry was considering to ignore the man, but then the guy did realise his predicament and swung his cutlass at Harry. Being immobile, he wasn't really a bother. A quick stab to the throat neutralized the target.

The fight lasted only a few seconds longer. Given the option to remain on a burning ship or to get cut down by Harry's crew, more and more enemy fighters decided to go for option C, ditching their weapons and take their chances with swimming.

When the last men were cut down, the pent-up tension from the fight erupted into a furious roar of victory cheers.

Harry was in a daze, in pain, and exhausted. Somehow, they made it, it slowly occurred to him. But they needed to get away, still.

"Hear me! Set sails, cut the anchor! Tonks, get that wreckage off us! Mister Higgs?"

"Wounded, currently under deck," one man replied from within the crowd.

"Here's hoping he's getting through. We'll do without him, for now. We need to get away before they realize the harbour is blocked and get some other idea," Harry yelled back at the men. "Remus! You, the twins and their gun crews look after the wounded, sailors to their stations, grab a gunner if you need an extra hand. I want a man at the wheel!" He gave commands to get his ship under control and away. He didn't think that their position near the looming walls was a good resting spot. Right now, all available men were on their ships, but they could show up up there any moment, now, with rifles and whatnot, once their surprise had worn off.

Realizing the truth to his words, his orders were followed as quickly as it was possible with the remaining crew.

Barely feeling his body over the burning feeling, anymore, he dragged himself over towards the helm, away from the blood and gore. He only made it up the stairs before his legs buckled and his exhaustion finally succeeded over his will.

 _ **ooOOoo**_

Harry was still sitting at the place he'd collapsed when Tonks found him.

"Message from the Pathfinder, they made it. Barely, but they're OK," Tonks reported.

"Good, as soon as you feel able, send a Patronus to tell the guys we're still alive, and heading home," Harry said tiredly, before focusing on their helmsman, waving the man over.

"Set course, we're heading south-south-west," he ordered. The man hesitated to enact the orders. He had trust in Mr. Higgs approving the new Captain's orders, but the man was currently not able to do his duty, as he was having his right leg reattached and a few shattered ribs vanished by Remus. Finally, he went so far as to boldly ask why they should do so. Their island was to the north.

"I hope that they take the bait, and believe we are running straight home," Harry explained calmly. "So they might assume we are heading to the American coast or down to Cuba, and this will take them off our track. We will submerge a couple miles out and cut north, then heading to Bahama and back," he said, seeing signs that the man had caught up with Harry's plan.

"And now move your carcass and follow your orders, you son of a beached whale," Harry growled dangerously, restoring the pecking order on the boat, smiling slightly as the man ran off back to his station, starting to yell orders and expletives at the men rushing towards the ropes at his call.

Harry dignified Tonks with a weak scowl when he caught her smirking at him.

"What?" He growled.

"When you're done napping, we could need you below deck. As bad as your magical exhaustion is, you won't run out. You'll feel like like a roast for a week, probably, but there are lives on the line."

"I'll do my best, but I don't know much healing," Harry stated as he wrestled himself to his feet, relying heavily on the railing for that.

"You know the basics, and have magic left. The rest, we'll teach you. The faster you learn, the less will die," Tonks replied, taking his arm to support him as she led him down to the improvised hospital under deck.

 _ **ooOOoo**_

 _ **AN:**_

Some more for you guys. Sorry for the delay, but I was sick, had some urgent orders for a few more swords, and general work. On top of trying to write a bit ahead in this story, and writing about half another story in two or three plot bunnies that had sunk their incisors into my head and wouldn't let go. So don't worry, this story won't get abandoned, it's just going slow.

Until we meet again - always keep a foot of water under your keels!


	3. Licking wounds

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

 **In enemy waters**

By DerLaCroix

 **Chapter** **3** **–** **Licking wounds**

 _ **ooOOoo**_

Entering the harbour - that resembled a fortress by now, palisades and guns everywhere - Harry was getting a hero's welcome. Only staying for the most needed explanations and seeing the wounded carried off to be cared for, he asked about Hermione's whereabouts and referred the people to the patched up Mr. Higgs, whose ability to shout at people was only marginally hindered by the bandage around his body until they could regrow the two ribs they had needed to vanish, for the full tale, and left to look for his girl.

Harry rushed into the wharf-turned-hospital, finding Hermione sitting on a bed, her arm in a sling, her clothes ripped and torn in places, and some half-healed cuts visible on her face. The red stains around the rends and tears in her shirt indicated that there were many more.

"What happened?" He asked as he sat down beside her, grabbing her hands.

"We didn't make it. Without that mast, we were just to slow. We were intercepted and drew heavy fire. The shield held two broadsides off, but then it failed. We wanted to fight back, but they stayed behind us, crossing our stern repeatedly in order to avoid our return fire. Soon, they had stripped us another mast, and the rudder got smashed. By then, our reservoir was too depleted to charge the guns, so we were stationary and helpless and they pounded the living crap out of us. We lost three of the prior injured men, and one of the rescued, and nearly everyone else had been hit by wood splinters or debris and got wounded," she told him without any emotion in her voice, staring into the distance in a way Harry had seen on a lot of his crew on the return trip.

"I had a deep gash on my right arm, but Daddy had a belaying p4in driven through his left thigh and was losing lots of blood. Someone froze the wound to keep him from bleeding out, but he passed out from the pain," Hermione continued, this time with a shiver in her voice.

"While they were bombarding us, the _Pathfinder_ showed up, just in time. Guess they didn't expect us to get reinforcement, and believe it was one of their own. The _Pathfinder_ didn't even give them a single broadside - which probably wouldn't even have scratched the shielding, anyway - and just passed them with a rolling discarge of canister shot. Then, they slammed their side into their side as they turned, and boarded the vessel. We were unable to help much, only the token curse now and then, and although they had the surprise on their side, our guys were still slightly outnumbered. It was fifty-fifty until suddenly, their ship started collapsing and our people made a mad dash back onto the _Pathfinder_ , keeping the others from following them while their ship went down. I later heard Ginny took two men, slipped the fight and went down into the ship, where they hacked the keel in half, failing the reservoir. It blew up at them, injuring all three of them. Ginny got the worst; she got thrown into a bulkhead and was knocked out with some broken ribs. They picked her up and carried her back on board."

Harry acknowledged the story with a grim nod. He had to take care of this.

"In the end, when we exchanged our messages, they cleared away the fallen mast and towed us back," Hermione finished the tale.

Looking around, Harry couldn't make out any of the people mentioned. "Where are the others?"

"The matron and the Weasleys are currently working on them in there," she replied, pointing at the pieces of bloodstained cloth curtaining off the 'surgery'.

"They said dad will survive, but the leg is badly hurt. Maybe too bad. Mum is with him right now. She got knocked out, but is nearly unharmed except for bruises, burns, shallow cuts and the shock of Dad being hurt. Ginny, I don't know, but she's tough, she'll come through. It was close, but we managed," she sighed, before taking his ragged clothes and the dried blood in his hair under scrutiny.

"How was your day?" she asked with fake mirth in her voice, and Harry started to tell her.

They got interrupted a few minutes later by Margret approaching, her head bandaged, but otherwise looking fine. When she had reached the bed, she sat down on the edge opposite to Harry, taking Hermione's free hand.

"Sorry, I'm pretty dizzy. Concussion and stuff," she muttered as she took a few deep breaths.

"How's dad?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"It was touch and go for a while. The freezing saved his life, but the leg was without circulation for a long time. Another hour, and it would have been too late for it. But he'll be fine. At least better than the ones who paid with their lives for our stupidity," Margret replied, bitterly spitting out the last few words.

"It was a bad luck accident. You were just sailing. These bloody gits decided to capture you for no reason," Harry replied, reaching out for her hand, as well.

Margret shook their head. "It might have been for no initial reason, but... They knew who we were. Or were pretty sure. When some men tried to... get... frisky... with me, their officer told them to knock it off, I was too valuable," she replied, her expression briefly mirroring her daughters, before she switched topic.

"How many casualties do we have?"

Taking a deep breath, Harry replied. "Thanks to Remus and Tonks, less than we should. Even during the fight, they managed to use healing charms to cauterize wounds, keeping people from bleeding out too quickly. And I don't remember how many healing spells I've cast under their tutalage on the way home. I did what I could, but the more complex stuff was beyond me. They worked until they collapsed. We had to carry them off the ship."

"I really need to get them to teach me more that healing stuff, I'm not sure I still remember all they showed me, I was just doing whatever they told me, trying not to keel over," Harry added after both had shared a long, silent moment, just holding each other's hands.

"You do look awful," Margret remarked.

"Thank you?" Harry replied. "I feel much worse than I look, I can assure you."

"Are you hurt?" Hermione inquired, suddenly giving him a frantic visual check as she realized he might be.

"No wounds, just the worst case of magical exhaustion, ever, to quote Tonks. Remus warned me to not cast anything, anymore, for a week or so once I started to miscast spells due to flinching."

Hermione's eyes flew wide open at that statement. Margret didn't miss that signak that Harry had once again done something remarkable, in some way. "Can you explain?" She asked her daughter.

"When you cast too much, you run out of magic, and running really low hurts, like after running really long and you are winded. Usually, you run out and fall asleep from the strain, and when you wake up, you are back to normal. Powerful wizards can cast till they hurt themselves, needing a day or two of rest to heal."

"Like an electric wire getting hot if you plug too much into it," Harry helped as good as he could.

Seeing Hermione nod, Margret voiced a theory she had. "And to keep with that visual, Harry most likely continued to cast until the wire caught fire, isn't it so?"

Harry nodded, weakly. "I had to. They were so many, and our men were down to guns, nobody but us three was even attempting to cast spells, anymore. And then there were wounded men all around, and I needed to help them... so many..."

"I know," Hermione replied when he became silent, her eyes briefly drifting into the distance.

"And so senseless - with only ten more proper spellcasters with us in that bottleneck, we would have wiped the other ship clean without taking losses - Tonks, Remus and I were pretty efficient," Harry started a rant that snapped Hermione out of it. "Remus defended us, I attacked, and Tonks switched between offence and defence as needed. Maybe we could introduce that, somehow."

"I doubt they could use shield charms like we do. Or any spell. They never got proper training when they were young, and won't get powerful enough," Hermione voiced her concerns after a moment of consideration. "Most of them only know a few spells that help in their trade. And even those only barely, that's why they use so many enchantments. It takes them a few days to enchant something, but they get a lot more use out of it. Power-wise, these people are barely at the level of a second year student. We could extend an offer to train people in magic. We might get them up to third or fourth year with a bit of effort. And teach them some spells. Most of them can only cast one or two combat spells, and those badly. Some even ignore magic in combat and just use a pistol and then charge into melee," Hermione offered her analysis.d

"Why not use real shields?" Margret added her piece of mind in a way she could participate. "I mean, like a phalanx. Every man has a shield and fights from behind it."

"The shield could be blasted apart," Hermione replied.

"Metal shields, then?"

Harry shook his head. "A blasting curse doesn't really care what a target is made of. Higgs told me that this is one reason of many they still use wooden ships - metal shrapnel does a lot more damage to the crew than wood splinters. The americans tried it for a time, but went back to completely wooden ships after the first fleet encounter."

"And if you charm them like the ships, I mean, to resist damage?" Margret asked, looking from her daughter to Harry. "Wouldn't that work?"

"I don't particularily know a lot about that way to enchant, but if we were to keep them close to me when not in use, we could give them a pretty good charge," Harry admitted.

"As long as you don't want to blood bind yourself to them, too, why not," Hermione agreed, eyeing her boyfriend suspiciously.

"Maybe the ones for Remus, Tonks and us?" Harry replied in a small voice, ducking for cover from an expected assault that never came.

"I hate it when he's being all cute and protective while being stupidly gallant," Hermione complained to her mother, instead.

"I'll ask Lenny later, I have to visit him, anyway," Harry replied with a smile and a slight yawn.

"Huh?"

"My wand is broken, he needs to make a new one," Harry admitted, sheepishly.

"How did that happen?" Margret asked, bewildered.

"I burned it out," Harry admitted in a small voice. Thankfully, no one challenged him on that. Knowing that he had to cast enough to ruin that monster told them the kind of fight he had been in. Margret simply rose and circumnavigated the bed, embracing Harry in a hug. She knew that Harry would never talk about it, but in a way, that day had marked him just as bad or even worse than it had marked all three Grangers. They would see each other, and that included him, through this.

ooOOoo

The next morning, Harry - with Dobby and Winky in tow - walked into the 'Granger corner' of the wharf hospital to find most people he knew in attendance.

The Grangers, he had expected to still be where he had left them last night, but by now, Henry was awake and looking much better. Margret was too, just by having her husband back to health. Hermione was asleep in a bed, next to Remus and Tonks, who were still sleeping in the beds they had been put into. Ginny was sleeping next them.

"Good morning," Henry greeted him, quite chipper. "Although you do look like someone who skipped sleep," he noted. "Been up and organizing things since you left, huh?"

Harry avoided eye contact when he gave a curt nod. He couldn't stand sitting around twiddling his thumbs while everybody was doing stuff, and had no intentions going to sleep, any time, soon. Thus, not able to cast, and not as capable to help brewing like Hermione, he had begged his leave and found other ways to be useful.

"Yeah, running around collecting votes, stories, and calculating the prise. How's Hermione?"

"She kept awake all night, helping the twins brew potions," Margret explained briefly. "She crashed about an hour ago, so please let her sleep now."

Harry gave her a smile in reply before asking a quiet question. "Where are the rest of the Weasleys?"

"They are touring the place, looking after their patients, and the twins are cleaning up their brewing lab, I think," Margret replied.

"They shooed Hermione out when she started swooning. She was fit to be carried off," Henry added.

"Yeah, that's her," Harry replied, before signalling Dobby.

Dobby stepped forward, handing Margret three bags of different size, while Winky ticked off something on the ledger she was carrying.

Margret's brow furrowed when she felt the weight. "What's that for?"

"What is it?" Henry demanded.

"Coins," she replied, quite baffled. "Quite a lot, by weight."

"Three prize shares, including the extras for getting wounded," Harry replied.

"What? Why?" Margret sputtered, barely managing to keep her voice low.

"You said you fired your pistol, right?" Harry inquired.

"Yes, but only once, never hit anything, and got knocked out right after that!" Margret protested.

Harry sought out an expert opinion to confirm things. "Winky?"

"Charter says that length of fight is not being important, especially when getting knocked out due enemy action," Winky replied, leafing through her notes. "Cannon fire shaking ship, causing a fall, does count. Mistress Granger receives two shares. One for participation, one for injury. Mistress Mate Potter-Black receives four and a half shares for the first battle because of Captain Harry Potter-Black offering triple, one and a half for the second, and one for injury. Additionally, it contains two shares for providing medical aid, as well. Master Granger be receiving one for participating in the second battle, and three for losing a leg."

"As far as I am informed, it's still attached. I prefer it that way, even if that means I have to decline some money," Henry commented with a slight laugh.

Harry could only smirk, exhausted. "The rules are older than healing magic capable of restoring such damage. The injury would have meant you'd lose it, so it counts. I already handed sixteen guys their bonus for valiantly dying in battle, so stop complaining."

"Indeed," a twin agreed as he stepped out.

"Agreed," the second one, following his mirror image, continued, before perking up, slightly. "What's the topic?"

"Dunno," his brother replied with a face-splitting yawn, streching. "Hy, captain, what's up?"

"Our fortunes, it seems," the other spoke up as he got a bag of gold shoved into his hands by Dobby.

"Three and three quarters of a share for the first battle, one and a quarter shares for the second, and four injury shares for going deaf, twice, for Gunner Fred Weasley" Winky stated, checking a line. "Gunner George receives the same," she continued as Dobby delivered another bag.

Margret had to ask the question. "You went deaf? Both of you? Twice?"

"Cannons go boom, loud boom. Many guns, confined space, ears go boom, too," Fred explained, using a most likely made up on the fly sign language to accompany his spoken words.

"But twice?"

"We healed ourselves after each battle," George replied, using a very similar looking sign language to interpret, as well, which Margret had to comment on.

"Impressive you know how to heal something like that. But what is it with your sign language?"

"We made that one up, years ago, after we realized that we need a way to communicate while one or both of us turn up deaf," Fred replied.

"You turned deaf often enough to create a sign language?" Henry gasped.

"You know them and still are surprised? There's hardly a spot in their room without fire damage," a pretty small voice giggled from across the room.

"Gin-gin!" Both twins exclaimed, rushing over to their barely awake sister. Only moments later, Arthur and Molly rushed in, Ron in hot pursuit. Harry wondered briefly, but realized they must have put a notify charm of some kind on her, should she wake up.

Harry gave them a few moments to hug and kiss before interrupting. "Good that I got you all together, that saves me a lot of running after you," he joked, waiting for Dobby to snap a couple of big bags into existence and handing them over.

Fred and George were quite baffled when they got presented with two more bags.

"Harry, we already got ours. What are those for?"

"Medical services, according to Charter. Two shares. Same for each of you," he addressed the other Weasleys present.

"But Harry," Molly tried to protest, but got cut off harshly.

"It's yours. Charter is to be followed. You both are the main reason many here are still alive and in one piece. Your sons worked without pause to create the potions you needed. If anyone would dare to say neither of you deserve what is yours by law, he'll answer to me," Harry snapped. He had forseen that refusal, and had chosen to distribute the twin's shares that way to stiffle them.

"We understand," Arthur tried to be a calm voice in the impeding storm, reading between the lines. "And accept," he added, with a brief glance at his wife, who ceased her protest as she briefly stopped and realized that at least one of these patients was of high importance for Harry.

"Of course. If the rules say we get this, then we accept. Thank you Harry," she replied with an amiable smile, backing down.

"Thanks, mate," Ron joined in. "But I don't think I've really earned it, though, I just helped. I don't want to get anything just for being around when others did the work."

"Ron - I appreachiate your humility, but you are wrong. I was told you saved at least one live, when you realized and reported that Manny had started slurring mid-sentence when you served dinner, and helped ease the pain of many more, being wherever you were needed, working above and beyond mere duty. You may not have personally healed a lot of people, but you helped healing almost everyone in here. You earned this, thrust me."

"Ok, thanks again, mate," Ron mumbled, his ears quite tinged. "I guess I can keep it, then."

"You better," Hermione growled from her spot. "After you all woke me with this ruckus, you don't want to answer me, either."

"Morning, love! Good you are awake. Time to adress what punishment the last Weasley present will be receiving for her actions," Harry stated, his faze a stone-cold mask as he glared at Ginny, who instinctively cringed as his stare found her.

"I..., what..., punishment? Why?" she stammered.

"You did break rank, talked other crewmembers into joining you in desertion, and left the battle without orders. The Charter is clearin this regard. Desertation during battle. You're lucky - as you are still young, you will by punished as a boy instead of a man. No cat'o'nine, just a dozen lashes with a boy's cat, over the buttocks." Harry insisted.

"Harry, mate," Fred called out, as the first of all the Weasleys trying to voice their opinion, but Harry cut them off with a gesture.

"Under normal circumstances, that would be the punishment for what she did. But in this case, her desertion resulted in a lot of people surviving a battle almost lost," Harry continued, causing most of the people present to relax a lot.

"Still, the rules must be followed. In accordance with the Charter, I called a vote by her crewmates. After an unanimous vote, I hereby wave any punishment on all three deserters. Still, being the lead, I hereby declare her discharged of her station and all her shares forfeit," Harry proclaimed. By the time he was finished, Ginny was close to tears as she realized she was getting a pardon from a cruel fate.

"Do you want to challenge this verdict?" Harry made himself heard over the din of the Weasleys hugging their smallest member. There was a sudden silence when everyone gave her space to reply.

"No. Certainly not. I guess that's only fair," Ginny replied in a tiny voice.

"No, it's not," Harry replied, his face suddenly transforming to a soft smile. "It is what the rules demanded, but it's not just. But we're past the official part now, and I will be dammed if I don't reward you for what you did. But I think there are three people who want you rewarded even more than I do."

Stepping aside, he made way for three smiling Grangers, carrying a wide, square box, easily two feet across, with a red ribbon wrapped around it, culminating in a neat bow on top.

Ginny was pretty much in an emotional roller coaster at this point. Still, unwrapping a present was nothing she needed to be told twice after having it deposited on her lap. But finding nothing but a wide-brimmed hat with a plume in that box threw her off.

Harry relished in her confused gaze as she tried to figure out what kind of prank just had been pulled on her. When she finally asked him what this was about, he chortled slightly.

"Every captain needs a hat, don't you think?" Hermione replied before he could.

The most eloquent reply Ginny was able to form was a slurred "Huh?".

"I recently bought a pretty overprized vessel from my crew, which got damaged during the purchase and all but wrecked on the way home," Harry started to give a very convoluted reply, savouring the way Ginny's face contorted as she tried to follow his train of thought and slowly realized what he was jabbering about.

"She still needs some repair and refit done - which I will fund, in full - but the Raven is yours, if you want it," Harry concluded.

The reply consisted of two squeals. The first of joy, the second of pain, as Ginny had tried to hurl herself at him to hug, but got stopped by her still tender ribcage protesting vehemently against sudden movememt.

"I will think about your offer, call me in a week or so," she replied cheekily after a few ragged breaths.

"In the unlikely case that you accept this pitiful offer, you will need a crew," Hermione joined the banter. "I know two capable sailors who also got dismissed from the Pathfinder, and might want to join you. A vessel like that could be sailed by three, if you keep out of trouble," she said with a wink that made Ginny blush.

"Aw, geez. Since I lost them their jobs, I feel like I should take them under my wing," she replied, trying to cover up her blunder.

Of course, her brothers did not let her off that easily.

"And which one do you intend to hug closer?" George heckled.

"Knowing Ginny, she can't decide which one," Fred joined in.

"She should take both - it probably takes two men to make her happy," George replied, finding only long faces staring at him, except for Ginny, who was mortified.

Molly was just about to explode when Arthur spoke up, saying nothing but his son's name.

"Sorry, that came out wrong," George apologized. "Sounded much more funny inside my head."

"Because that pumpkin is soft and hollow," Fred commented, smacking his brother's shoulder. "Non frigidus, frater!"

"Right, I deserved that. I blame lack of sleep. Didn't want to imply anything, Gin, nor would it be my place to comment on that. Sorry. I'll get some pillow-time for now, and you can hex me later, when you feel better, and make it count, ok? Goodnight, everyone."

"A very good idea," Arthur replied, trying to defuse the situation. "We all went way past our limits. Let's retire for today."

"And the patients?" Molly inquired.

'"If something pops up, people know where to find us. We'll be of little use if we fall asleep while casting," Arthur replied with a smile. Molly found herself in agreement and allowed him to lead her out, the non-bedridden part of her family following her.

"Indeed. And we haven't eaten in ages," Ron agreed happily as he fell in place behind them.

"He'll never change, bless him," Hermione giggled as all but one redheads had left the premises.

"True that," Ginny replied. "One day, he'll devour the whole world. I'll take the boat, by the way," she giggled.

"Ship," Harry corrected. "If it can carry a boat on deck, it's a ship," he explained smugly.

Ginny smirked back, her eyes twinkling. "That means that any boat is a ship, you just have to find a small enough boat," she shot back, laughing at his confused expression. "Good prank, though. I really thought you'll have me flogged for deserting. I owe you one, now, so better learn to sleep with one eye open!"

"On that note - Dobby, could you please put Harry and my daugther in pyjamas?" Henry spoke up.

While Harry was still asking for a reason, Dobby was already one step ahead of him, and so, Harry found himself in a tartan pyjama set, matching Hermione's equally new attire, when he received his answer.

"Because the two of you will climb in that bed here and get some sleep. You are both just about to keel over, and in denial about that. And if I let you run off, you will either end up canoodling or working, but certainly not sleeping. Thus, you are now grounded, and I'm sending you to bed," Henry replied. "Ah-ah! Actual father and father in law. I outrank you here. Off to bed," he scolded them as they tried to object.

Realizing that he was pretty much right on all points, Hermione complied and made her way back under the sheets. When Harry was still standing around, stubborn like a mule and made no move to follow, she cleared her throat to get his attention.

"Huh?"

"My father has just ordered me to take you to bed with me to cuddle and nap. You got any problem with that?"

Realizing that he was up against an unbeatable alliance, Harry submitted. Sleep did seem a good idea, he had to admit.

Although it took quite some time for sleep to find them, for Ginny was in stitches after watching the scene play out like that and couldn't quiet down for a while.

 _ ***** Havanna, Governor's Palace*****_

"What's the current status on the Nassau attack? Any reports, yet?" Governor Smithe-Nott barked, as soon as his aide entered his office.

"Last count, we lost 2 corvettes at sea, another corvette and a war galleon were sunk in the entrance, blocking it, with 3 more ships running into the wreckage or the harbour walls, two of them galleons, as well, sustaining profound damage," the aide, a small bespectacled maggot of a man named Gershwin Beeds recounted, reading off a list he already had shuffled to the top of the pile of parchment in hand, before even entering. "The harbour battery is out of order..." he continued, but stopped, as the governor jumped up, his hands slamming on the desk.

"What? How on earth did they do that? How big was the attacking force?" the man demanded.

Shuffling his notes to buy a bit of time, the aide took a deep breath and gave the requested report.

"Reports indicate it was only one lone vessel flying pirate colours, capturing one of our corvettes, the _Raven_ , just a few miles out of the harbour. There are survivors, but their memory was modified. As the fleet departed, the unknown vessel attacked the harbour to allow the captured vessel to escape. One corvette, the _Mandragora_ managed to slip out ahead of the fleet, suffering damage from the attacker while passing at range, and pursued the _Raven_. We do not have notice from that vessel, so we assume it was sunk at sea with all hands lost."

Interupting, the governor spoke up. "Was there anything of interest on board of the Raven?"

"We don't know. But since the attacking ship actively hunted her down and took such risk in capturing and recovering that vessel, we must assume so."

The governor leaned back in his seat, motioning the aide to continue, his face sour.

"The vessel closed in rapidly, ignoring the fire of the batteries that was ineffective at causing hull damage, and slipped into their blind zone, while returning Reductor cannon fire, taking all guns out. Some survivors claim they had an incredibly powerful spellcaster casting such curses, but more likely, they had some kind of very mobile cannon mount on deck, able to shoot straight up, made specifically for that purpose. The batteries are a loss, but will be operational as soon as new cannons are levitated out of the blocking hulks and onto the wall. Estimates are the harbour will be closed for a week, at minimum, to clear the waterway."

Not getting interrupted this time, Beeds continued, flipping his notes.

"The vessel actually dropped anchor in front of the entrance, and started firing into the harbour, hitting numerous vessels, sinking the first ship trying to engage, the corvette _Leeroy Jenkins,_ with a single salvo. The galleon _Warspight_ managed to plough through that wreckage while taking heavy fire, and rammed the attacker. Their boarding was repelled by massed spell- and gunfire, and again, by use of that mysterious cannon. Meanwhile, the guns of the attacker managed to shred the bow of the _Warspight_ , sinking her on top of the _Leeroy Jenkins_ , blocking the harbour completely. We only could work of a list of crew members, but the losses seem to amount to 250 men. 300, if we include the men presumably lost at sea. About a hundred wounded, on top."

"Damn it to bloody hell! Who was behind it? Are the bloody yanks trying to interfere again?" Governor Smithe-Nott demanded to know.

"We're not sure. We have them boxed in, and they know. We've got more than enough troops available in Canada to burn the White House, again. They managed to pressure the muggle world to keep up that embargo against Cuba, but that doesn't hurt us much, just the muggles. They are not in a position to fight us, especially not after we went through on our threat to synchronize the weather repelling charms, four years ago," his aide replied eagerly, beaming at his boss.

"Oh, right, how did they call it in the news? Anthony?"

"Andrew, Sir."

"Oh yeah, that one," Smithe-Nott chuckled. "They never knew what was going to hit them."

"Indeed Sir. They lost their entire Caribbean Fleet, and two towns. A masterpiece," Beeds grovelled. "Apart from that, they are having problems in their colony in the middle east, again."

Smithe-Nott was surprised hearing that. "Again? Good thing we are barely invested, anymore, in that region. The Yanks are cuddling too closely with their Muggles, for sure. All that hassle for something as useless as oil."

"Well, we do have to admit that their Muggles are more successful than them, Sir," Beeds admitted. "Anyway, the ship was last seen as it left, heading south-west."

"That could be a rouse. Making us think it was them," Smithe-Nott spoke, looking thoughtful."But if it wasn't the Yanks, who was it? And who would benefit from us thinking it was them? The Spanish? They are busy not looking too involved in that drug business. Us pummelling the Yanks some more would certainly suit them, but it's not their style."

Not knowing what to do, Beeds resorted to just listing the common players. "Maybe the French?"

"Don't be silly, they are invested in Africa. The Dutch would be more probable, but they've been sitting quiet and content on their islands and do as they are told, as long as they are allowed to trade freely. No, this is something different. Maybe even a pirate, but I just can't come up with a reason why someone would attack a fleet at harbour. Certain nobody knows that ship?"

"We made round in the harbours. No one knows. They agree it's an old design, almost antique, but no one remembers having it seen before. We've already sent report to Britain, along with a request to check the archives for that vessel. Maybe it came from the Pacific, and changed waters."

"For all I care, it sat around in an underwater cave, along with a pirate's hoard, and someone stumbled over it," Smithe-Nott shouted, his temper flaring. "I don't care! I want them all strung up by their entrails!" he continued, hitting his desk with his fist. "Send out all patrol vessels that are seaworthy. Someone out there knows who it was and where they hide."

"They'd never tell. They hate us more than them," Beads remarked, managing to enrage his counterpart even more.

"They will lear to fear us more than they hate us, then," the Gouvernor spat, his face purple from supressing the urge to roar. "I authorise reprisal orders. Capitains are authorized to treat all civilian as enemy forces and act accordingly. I want that knowledge beaten out of the island scum - sooner or later, one will talk!" He hissed, dangerously.

"WHAT?" he suddenly yelled, when he noticed his secretary had opened the door and peeked in. The rather meek, but pretty little thing called Cathy reeled at the sudden verbal assault, but recovered quickly.

"Sorry, Sir, I didn't know this was important. The widow Gloster, Sir, concerning her loan," she spoke, her eyes never leaving the ground as she stammered her apology.

"Gloster? Already?! How convenient," the Governor cackled, his face lighting up. "Get the men to work, Beeds. Have that harbor cleaned up and the ships repaired and replaced. We can't afford having most of our navy tied up like that."

"Send her in," he commanded the girl.

"Excuse me, Governor. If it's inconvenient, we can come back at a later..." A very attractive woman of obvious spanish descent, jet-black curles, most likely in her mid thirties, spoke while timidly inching into the office. Behind her, a teenaged copy of herself was trying to peek aroind her mother at the lavish decorations of the office.

"You might not have heard, yet, but we had an attack at our fleet, lost a couple ships and had a port destroyed. The Wizengamot is demanding more and more taxes, and don't even know about these looming extra expenses, yet. And my Great-Aunt keeps harrassing we to marry quickly in order to secure and manage the family fortunes, now that I inherited the Nott estate. I do not see any point of time in the near future that would be any less inconvenient than now," Smithe-Nott replied with a smirk and brief laugh. "So take a seat, Madam."

"You too, erm... Mercedes, right?" He added, making the girl blush and nod. He quickly returned the smile before adressing Beads.

"Arrange what we discussed, Beads."

Being a natural born aide, Beads knew that this was a dismal, bowed slightly, and bade his goodbyes.

"Now, what brings you to me?" He heared the Governor open the audience, before the door fell shut behind him.

Beeds knew exactly what the problem was. After all, he had been the one to rely the gouvernor's offer to the captain to let the ordered bales of the finest fabrics for Madame Glover's soon-to-be (well, actually, never going to happen) seamstress business 'get lost during transit' and split the earnings between them, along with a nice bonus and the governor's gratitude. Coupled with a few well-placed compulsion charms to make the poor woman spend the whole loan on the stock buildup, she should be completely bankrupt now and unable to pay back the thousand Galleon loan that the governor had been so gracious to approve for the promising business that already had so many preorders from wealthy customers.

Casting the usually in-, but currently quite appropriate listening charm at the door, he listened to the woman explaining the very same happenstances.

"Are you telling me that you blew the loan, not even two months in?" He could hear the governor cut her off. The woman was trying to explain herself, but didn't get very far.

"Do you even begin to comprehend into what a situation you maneuvered me into? I personally vouched for you being a reliable creditor, in part due to the long time I knew your late husband!"

Beeds knew that this was only in part true. The late Captain Gloster had been an aquaintance no closer than others. But after that unfortunate accident, the governor had seen the man's widow and daughter at the funeral, and immediately started to charm them.

"I might even be forced to repay that out of my own vault in order to avoid my position being questioned! I'd have to liquidate a substantial part of my stock to do this." The governor continued to rant.

Of course, that was a lie. Beeds knew for a fact that the sale of the goods, minus the fee for 'misplacing' them, was actually more than the value of the loan. These fabrics sold for a significant higher price here than what had been paid for in Britain.

Beeds briefly wondered what the governor's intentions with the two women were. He'd seen that game played a couple of times. The last time with Cathy behind him. He didn't have to turn around to know that the girl was being reminded of her past by this. She was clever enough to have realized that she had been lured and forced into her current position, by now. Was it that? Could the governor be tired of her, already, even though she still had to serve half a year? Turning around, he surveyed the girl closely, causing her to quickly hide her current feelings behind a professional face. Long, strawberry blonde hair, a fair complexion, steel blue eyes. She was still a bit timid, or at least kept that as an act, but he knew for a fact that she had adjusted pretty well to her fate. He did not even need a charm to listen in when she was called in for the usual noon 'letter dictation'.

Right then, Beeds decided that if she really was to be replaced, he would make moves to have her transferred to his office for the remainder of her indentured service contract. Apart from being his type, she actually was really competent at her job.

Returing to his listening, he could hear the governor currently making angry noises about Madam Glover's future on a debtor plantation. "... Even after the sale of the house and all your posessions, you will not even be able to work off the interest accrueing," he thundered.

"Our house? But where will my daughter live?" The woman asked. Beeds could hear that she was close to tears, already.

"I don't care! She's young and pretty, there's always a place at the harbor for her!" He could hear Smithe-Nott growl, with the women gasp and wail in shock.

At this moment, Beads realized what the goal was. Quickly making a mental list of contacts he would have to make an actual list of to be 'miraculously prepared', the next time he was called upon, he could hear his guess being confirmed.

"I apologize. I spoke in anger. This is a very serious situation, but I think a mutual beneficial solution just occurred to me," the governor spoke up again, his anger spontaneously evaporating. "It is quite unusual, but it should work for all of us. First of all, I propose that I shall settle your debt out of my pocket, but I have demands in return," he added. Beeds would have liked to see the scandalized faced once the women had realized the implication.

"You don't propose...' Madam Glover stammered.

"That would be one option. Quite frankly, what other coin does a woman in your desperate situation posess, Madam?" The governor replied. "But not a reasonable. Even paid the highest rates, you could never repay such an amount in a reasonable time frame that way."

Which means, 'until I grow tired of you or you too old for me to want you', Beeds translated in his mind.

"Your daughter, on the other hand," the Governor continued, interupted by a couple of scandalized squeals.

"Hear me out, first. Since your daugther has been dragged into this without guilt, I feel it would be amoral to force her into such an arrangement. Meanwhile, I am currently forced to scout for a bride, with the potential pool being... less satisfying. This would be a substancial social step up for her."

"So it's either me being a plaything or my daugther your wife?" Mrs Glover summed the situation up in a very resigned tone.

"Not quite, Madam," the Governor replied. "You see, as I am n..."

The listening charm wore off during that reply, but Beeds didn't need to listen any further. He knew that she was wrong with her assessment. For all he knew, the governor actually needed two wives, one for each family branch, in order to avoid a merge and the resulting loss of a Wizengamot seat.

Beeds had already made a mental list of wedding planners and caterers, but it occurred to him that he urgently needed to make an appointment with a contract enchanter to prepare two suitable wedding contracts. Knowing the governor, he was pretty sure taking a servitude contract and replacing the word 'serf' with 'bride' was a pretty good start.

And definitely a 'no killing the husband' clause, he thought, amused, as he made his way out of the office.

 **ooOOoo**

 **AN:**

Sorry for the long wait.

We are currently extending our house to triple size, and if that wasn't enough hassle, already, the wireless interactive fertile entity (WIFE) has, after 4 years of trying to activate that setting, suddenly decided to spontaneously switch into cloning mode while we weren't trying to. While happy, sadly, that unit is a bit older and not working properly in this mode, which meant I spent most of the last months caring for it and at the service station where it got checked up and kept going, which including the building, my job, and managing the stables alone meant that I had a 16-18 hours workday for the last 4 months. Didn't even notice my internet was down for the most of that time.

But now, it seems everything is fine with her and the mini-me in the making, so I finally have a bit more time. And once the little homunculus is decanted, I will certainly have sooo much more spare time to devote to my writing... right? *cackles insanely*

Anyway, I am back in the saddle and will try to herd this plot forward. Thank you for staying with me.


	4. Taking stock(lock and barrel)

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

 **In enemy waters**

By DerLaCroix

 **Chapter 4 – Taking stock(lock and barrel)**

 _ **ooOOoo**_

Harry rose from a surprisingly undisturbed slumber. Frankly, he had realized a while ago that the only nights he really slept well were those when he collapsed into bed after a fight. He had attributed this to Pomfrey filling him up to the brim with potions, but nights like this showed that it was actually his body shutting down that did it.

He had to admit, though, that waking up in the Hospital wing was usually less disturbing that the sight he currently was forced to endure.

A smiling Weasley right in front of his face.

"Wakey, wakey, Captain," the blurry redhead in front of him cooed. Whichever twin happened to be bowing over him profited vastly from the fact that over the years, Harry had learned - the hard way - to deal with jump scare wakeup situations. The piercing shriek from his left side, followed by a meaty slapping sound and a definitely pained moan signalled that Hermione still had a long way to go to reach Harry's Zen-like acceptance of situations while coming around.

"Thank you, Harry," the non-violated twin said, quite sincere, as he drew back to a safe distance.

"And thank you, Hermione," the other pressed through gritted teeth. The outline of the shiner he'd be sporting today was already showing. His brother was examining it and giving Hermione a thumbs-up for it.

Her mother was less impressed. "Hermione Jean! Don't you think you should apologize?" She snapped from her spot, next to Henry's bed.

"No. Serves him right," was her daughter's only comment before she rolled over and pulled up the blanket to nap a bit more, leaving her mother speechless. Henry wisely suppressed his urge to comment, figuring that one close brush with death per day was more than enough.

"True. But totally worth it," the beat up twin proclaimed, before turning to his brother.

"Pay up!" He demanded.

Harry did raise an inquiring eyebrow at this remark and was just about to voice his question when money changed hands.

"Come on, we said double if she leaves a mark!" The beat up twin, Harry felt finally awake enough to dare identify him as Fred, complained. Margret seemed to change her opinion about who was the wronged party quickly after following that exchange, if her glower was any indication.

"We'll still have to wait if it forms - this is just red skin, yet," George made his plea, grinning wide, obviously enjoying seeing his brother suffer.

"It feels like one, though," Fred replied, performing a switching charm to move the bruise over to his brother. "See?"

"Just barely," his brother responded, his eye starting to swell shut.

Margret was pretty much beyond belief when she watched that casual display of magic. "Did you just move your bruise onto his face?"

"Actually, I moved the whole eye socket, so he can really savour the feeling, but yes," Fred replied smugly.

"You can actually feel it?" She gasped in reply.

"I wish I couldn't. It's a nasty throbbing pain with each heartbeat. I can feel the swelling getting worse," George replied, grimacing and drawing a sharp breath

"But... but... that is unbelievable," Margret gasped. "Can you do that, too?" She asked Harry.

"Of course, it's a pretty common spell, pretty much one to start with in first year. Rarely used outside of pranking," Harry replied, busy trying to return the pyjamas he wore back into their proper form, and struggling with it, and the lack of tea.

"Are you telling me that transplanting, no, EXCHANGING, living matter between two humans, with everything connecting up to the new host perfectly, is a children's spell?" Margret inquired hotly. Three pairs of male wizards eyes were blinking at her, confused about why she was making such a big deal about it.

"It's not that great a spell, you know, you have to manually undo it, it won't wear off on it's own," George tried to calm her down.

Fred had stifled a snort at that. "Indeed, remember when you switched my ears with one of the bunnies, and I tried for one hour to catch it in order to switch them back?"

"Oh, right! We had to get mum and confess so she would catch it for us. She made me wear them for an hour to teach me a lesson," George replied, giggling at the memory. Harry had to chuckle, too, and thought he heard a small snort from under the blankets, as well.

Margret was too far gone to be amused. "It works... with animals, as well?" She sputtered. Finally, the octogenarian janitor in Harry's brain seemed to have found the light switch and flipped it on, causing Harry to start using it to figure out why she might be upset.

"And objects, as well. It's pretty weird to have a spout for a nose." Fred continued to prattle on, still not getting how insanely complex this seemingly simple spell had to be if you actually started thinking about it. Henry was starting to feel sympathy for his wife, but was too busy watching Margret's mental breakdown to make him stop the show, so he settled for watching how things were to unfold.

"Not as weird as watching you two drink the tea you poured through that pot's new nose," Ginny chimed in, yawning heartily after her comment. "Mornin', evry'un," she greeted, mid-yawn, stretching in her bed next to Remus and Tonks, who were still out like a light.

"I sometimes still can smell the tea when the weather turns," Fred retorted with a sigh and fond smile. "Mmh... All warm and fuzzy, with a dash of milk," he mused.

Ginny's yawn turned into retching sounds and coughs as her brain transformed these words into the described sensation. Shuddering as her fit subsided, she was glaring daggers at her smirking brothers.

"You should have aimed lower, Hermione. One of them does have a glass chin and goes down nicely from a single slap. Dunno which one has it, currently, though, they switch it occasionally," Ginny stated indignantly, trying to intensify her glare, hoping for spontaneous combustion.

Hermione could be heard snorting either in mirth, or derision, from under her covers.

"You mean that you do this a lot? And everything keeps working?" Margret asked, even more intrigued.

Ginny had to laugh when she heard that, as did the twins. "They've been switching parts ever since they learned that spell. I'd say that they are about half-half, given how they can get away with it as twins."

"Makes it harder for people to tell us apart," the twin Harry had assessed to consist mostly of George parts confessed.

"I'm pretty sure the only things they never switched around are their brains and peckers," Ginny retorted, laughing at her own joke. Sadly, the twins didn't join in, but looked a bit sheepish, instead, stopping her, instantly. "I did not need to know that," she moaned painfully, clutching her head in despair.

"I'll obliviate you if you do me," Hermione offered from under her blanket. "Can it, or I'll switch… Them... with cacti and dispose of the originals," she growled after a moment when she realised why the twins had started sniggering.

"At least my days are still entertaining in this early retirement," Henry joined the conversation he had just watched, so far. "Why did we invite you two horrors to join us, again?"

"You didn't. We invited ourselves when we heard you want to bother Lenny to get bigger and better guns," they answered in unison. "When you need things that go 'boom', we're the guys to go to!"

"Oh, right. And be careful, you're this far from turning into a Yank, guys," Henry replied, displaying his pinched fingers, and chuckling when the twins recoiled in mock horror at his accusation.

Thinking about the task at hand, Harry realized that they weren't particular wrong. "Actually," he voiced his feelings, "I think we might need them. They do specialize in creating creative magic gimmicks, and that's what we want."

"Indeed! We have a reputation of making things explode!"

"And only half of these occurrences were accidental!"

"Still want to take them with us?" Henry asked Harry.

Harry pondered a moment, getting puppy eyes from the twins as he did, before nodding curtly.

"Your funeral," Henry replied with a shrug. "Anyway, let me get dressed, and we're ready to go. Luna might stroll around with just an open-back hospital gown, but I prefer wearing actual clothes," he chuckled.

Harry laughed along with the others for a moment, before realizing that the witch in question wasn't present. In fact, he hadn't seen neither her, nor Neville, since his return. "Speaking of her, where is she? I haven't seen her, yet."

"I met her yesterday, when she delivered the last batch of Blood Kelp to us," Hermione spoke up, slowly untangling from the blankets. "She took Neville out on her dolphins, so they could harvest every little bit of kelp around the island. When they ran out of easy to pick spots, Neville tried to get down to a deeper spot he had noticed. He got it, but it was too deep down, and he got his eardrums popped. She was apologizing that they couldn't find more, and told me that she'd be nursing him back to health, herself," she reported, with a smirk.

"In the Salsa shack?" Fred asked, innocently smiling at a suddenly cringing Harry.

"You mean Meringue mansion, brother, don't you?" George corrected him, casting the same sweet smile in Harry's direction, who was starting to get a healthy tinge to his ears.

"It was Mambo hut, you dolts," Ginny giggled, along with everyone else but Harry.

"I'll never see the end of that, won't I?" The boy-who-got-heckled sighed.

"No," Hermione replied, gently caressing his arm as she grinned at him. "Caribbean dance music, honestly..."

"How on earth should I have known that Calypso is the name of a goddess?" Harry reused his defensive argument, again, for what felt like the millionth time.

"That would have been fine, but you knew there was a dance music with that name, which makes it hilarious," Henry joined in.

Harry just crossed his arms and huffed, letting the others chuckle. 'Calypso's shack' was the unofficial name the town had given the couple's hideout. The hut was actually Neville's, and Luna officially lived with her dad in the Wharbler's office, but everyone knew that she had claimed the hut for them, both. Due to his interests, Neville's hut was located right outside the actual town, in a patch of healthy mangrove jungle. Between his dried and live plant samples and saplings scattered in it, and the strange knick-knack Luna had hung all over the place, it looked pretty much like Voodoo-R-Us.

"Did you know that some sailors actually go and ask her blessing before they leave harbour?" Ginny asked.

"Mhh-hmmm," Hermione tried to answer as she finally won the wrestling match against the comfy blankets and sat up. "Baldy is going as far as to wear a locket with her picture as a good luck charm," she replied, with various versions of "Are you kidding?" uttered by the twins in response.

Harry had to ponder these news, and wasn't sure what to think about it. His solution, of course, was to ask Hermione. "Do you think we should do something? This is getting out of hand, don't you think?"

"Actually, I think we should ignore it. People like her being a talisman of sorts, and it keeps her safe. It's half the reason she can pull off the stuff she does - no one would dare hurting her. He'd have half the town after him, and they'd do worse to him than Neville or we would. Apart from the fact that she is a pretty scary witch if she wants to, and they are barely more than squibs. Also, how exactly would you try fixing it?"

Harry wasn't quite convinced, yet, but he could see the problem she was hinting at. He was pretty sure Luna was very much aware of what was going on, on some level, and how far she could go. Just the same, he was sure that she wasn't going to stop being herself, no matter how much he'd insist. Now, telling people that she was just an eccentric girl would certainly backfire, in whatever way. Also, the other half of the reason Luna could basically run around starkers, safely was that the "ladies of the night", as Hermione called them, had threatened everyone to touch her with a life-time ban, as if they'd harmed one of them. That particular threat was more serious than death to a lot of the men in town, and unlikely to be taken back. Harry supposed that part of this protection was that Luna was quite a boon to their business. He just as well couldn't come up with any way in which angering these ladies would make him more popular with his crew and town.

"If it ain't broken?" He asked, tacitly approving of her assessment. Hermione smiled back as she nodded her agreement, and started reverting her sleepwear to it's prior stare, before padding towards the corner where the twins had set up a couple of enchanted loos.

 _ **ooOOoo**_

After a slow walk towards the workshop, with Henry's constant complaining about his leg not working properly, they entered Lenny's abode, which for once, was not scorching hot and deafening loud, as Lenny was hunched over a vice, working a tiny chisel on some barrel, this time.

Looking up as the door chime rang, his face brightened as he rushed over to usher them in. "Come in, come in! What a pleasure, Mylady," he said with a brilliant smile lighting up his face, and bowed to sketch a kiss on her hand, actually causing Hermione to blush. "Come in, milady, gentlemen!"

"And Weasleys," he added, his voice cold as he finally noticed the two redheads darken his doorsteps.

"Aww Lenny, you wound us," George replied, chuckling, clutching his heart as he sauntered in.

"Not mortally, it seems, to my regret," Lenny replied with a glare.

"Come on, admit it, you missed us," Fred playfully retorted as he crossed the doorstep.

Lenny's glare did not waver. "With every shot so far."

George had to shake his head, sighing. "Really Lenny? Still upset?"

"You blew up a brand-new cannon!"

"It was an accident!" Fred spoke up.

"You _accidentally_ spent days trying to modify the enchantment to use more power?" Lenny inquired, putting some emphasis on the words.

"Nah," Fred waved him off. "That we did on purpose - it was the 'too much power' part I referred to. We wanted to barely not blow it up and see how much range we could squeeze out of it." He had the testicular fortitude to smile at Lenny, who glared a bit more at him and then simply turned and went behind his shop counter top, facing the others.

"Ignoring these menaces, how are you? That rescue was a great success, Captain. The men will love you if you keep paying them like that! The Red A is almost out of stock, and Fanny's girls are walking bow-legged!" He jabbered away, excited like a child in Honeydukes. "I already took the liberty to a look at the remains of that boat - are going to have it rebuilt? A lot of work, but doable, I'd say. It's been a long time since we actually took a ship for prize, but it'll be a fine one, I'd say.

"The guns are mostly a lost case, though, 'xept for a handful they are scrap. I would need to recast most of them, maybe in a larger calibre, and try to procure enough raw material to replace the ones blown overboard. Would take a while, but if you can manage to keep these from blowing up the ones I have in stock, we might get this one outfitted in a few months."

"Good to hear, we'll talk about that later, for now, we do have more pressing needs," Harry tried to ignore that particular bridge for now. He had almost no idea of what state the ship was in, and anyway, if he didn't let Ginny have a say in this, he'd never hear the end of it."

"Alrighty, then, Captain. What can Lenny do for you?" The man replied with a deep chuckle, rubbing his hands eagerly.

Harry stalled for a moment trying to find a good way to start, and went for the most obvious thing, first.

"I think I need a replacement," he stated undiplomatically, placing the damaged battlewand on the counter top.

Lenny just stared at it in shock. For a long time. A very long time.

"Lenny?" Harry asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the long silence.

"I think you broke him, as well, Harrikins," Fred chuckled in the background.

"How do you feel, now that you are struck off the gentlemen list, like us?" George teased.

"How did you do that?" Lenny asked, still staring down at the blackened piece of wood and metal, that once had been what he felt was his magnum opus, lying on the counter in front of him. A careful observer might have noticed some extra moisture in the corner of his eyes as he prodded it with his hand, still kind of hoping it was just an illusion, a bad joke, about to turn into smoke at the slightest touch, but fearing it would crumble to ashes if he dared touch it.

Sadly, it was real.

"And the other one?" He asked, his body language all but screaming that he was actually scared to hear the reply.

"Fine and working," Harry quickly reassured the man, pulling it out and showing it to him, letting it spark. "See?"

"No Magic, Harry!" Hermione instantly scolded him, slapping his arm deftly, making him mumble an apology.

"Magical exhaustion," he mumbled as Lenny gave him an inquiring glance.

"Exhaustion? You? Oh dear, I'm almost afraid to hear what you did to wind up like that, given the state of this poor wand here," Lenny replied, almost completely in jest. Almost.

This time, it was George's turn to fail at keeping his mouth shut. "He razed a fort, and sunk a war galleon," he quipped, buffeting his nails on his vest.

Harry winced as everyone turned to stare at him. Trust the twins to bring up things he had glossed over. "I did not, I only destroyed the guns of the fort, and you used cannons to sink the ship," he disputed the part that he could.

"Oh-cot-rear, if you pardon my French," Fred uttered as he rose to defend his brother. "Between my esteemed brother and me, alternating fire between the chaser guns, we only managed to fire a cannon every... twenty?"

"More like twenty five," George added, making a wibbly-wobbly gesture with his hands.

"Thank you, twenty to twenty five seconds, while we were approaching the harbour," his brother picked up without hesitation. "How many of your cannon-sized spells can you fire at the fortress during that time, dear Harrykins?"

Hermione's eyes widened instantly as she did the maths.

"Indeed, Hermione, dear," George commented with a patronizing voice.

"You see them both as deer?" Fred asked, suddenly. "I never thought of it like that. Harry probably is, but what about Hermione? I do think her patronus is an otter, isn't it?"

"Ignoring that," George soldiered on, "while we were firing, I'd say, six or seven shots, each, Harry had pretty much destroyed the main part of the battlement of the harbour fort, and most cannon hiding behind."

"And concerning that ship," Fred spoke up, "Harry almost singlehandedly depleted its reserves. We merely punched a few holes into it after the fact, letting water in."

"Which is the definition of 'sinking'," Harry grumbled. "Thus - YOU sank it."

"Keep telling yourself, Harrydeer, keep telling yourself," George replied with a smirk. "From my position at the gun ports, I could see the damage you did to their forecastle. You pretty much fired as many shots as our broadside did during both battles, combined. Some of your spells punched through the whole length of it, once the shield was down. I'm pretty sure they'll never find some of the poor sods trying to hide there."

"Could as well have tried to hide behind some rose bushes," Fred agreed, "Remember, when it comes to opposing Harry, there is no such thing as cover, only concealment."

"Can we please get back to the task at hand," Harry begged, feeling extremely uncomfortable, being praised like this.

"So you need a new wand, right?" Lenny tried to appease his customer's wish.

"And some of your expertise," Hermione added. She wasn't quite sure if what she had in mind was feasible, but it was worth a try.

Lenny straightened a bit. When someone wanted something and wasn't straightforward with it, it was usually... let's use the term 'interesting'. "Regarding?"

"Looking back at the fight, we think our equipment needs an upgrade," Hermione started, trying to find a way to tell the man that his most advanced technology was about two hundred years put of date.

"Ah! You want to be able to sink two battle fleets in harbour," Lenny replied with a huge smirk.

"We'd prefer to sink all of them at anchor, to be honest," Fred spoke up.

"Harry's wand is fine, and his new one will be just as good, the problem is that he won't be able to win the day, all the time," Hermione continued, ignoring the distraction.

"I don't think I can follow you," Lenny replied. "You guys won't be able to profit from a wand like his."

Hermione had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. "It's not for us - it's about the crew!"

"That makes even less sense! They are barely able to use their own wands," Lenny retorted hotly, making Hermione feel like she was arguing with Ron, all over.

Henry chose to intervene at this point to keep things civil. "If I may... I think you two are having two different conversations, right now. We are talking about guns. Pistols, rifles, that kind. Maybe shields, for protection."

Lenny took a moment to ponder this. "That does make more sense. Why didn't you say so, right away?" He asked Hermione, not realizing how close the witch was to hex him. She was about to say something, but a single sharp glance from her father made her back down. Harry could not help but find a new level of appreciation for the man.

"As you are certainly aware of, there is quite a disparity in fire-power between our men and the enemy, when it comes to personal combat," Henry assumed control of the meeting.

"That's why we usually do not engage them in that way. They are trained wizards, we are not," Lenny retorted.

"Indeed, our men mostly rely on guns, but the kind they use are quite outdated," Henry agreed.

"What you want to say is, they are slow and inaccurate, right?" Lenny inquired as he turned and opened a drawer behind him. "Unlike these," he said as he placed a pistol and an assault rifle on the table. Henry was be the only one to recognize the 1911 for what it was, but even Harry was easily able to recognize the rifle for what it was.

"You have an AK 47?" He blurted. "Where did you get it?"

"Flotsam?" Lenny replied with a wide grin. The others were clever enough to not question it any further.

"These look funny," George commented, instead, after he had a good look at the guns. "I see how they are smaller and how the grips may be a good thing, but how are they better than what we have? Especially in terms of fire-power - the bore looks tiny on these."

"Calibre is not everything, guys. This one fires 7 times, and is more accurate than a musket at longer range," Henry spoke as he pointed at the Colt. "The other one has 30 shots, and fires them in about 2 seconds if you want to, and can hit a man at a quarter mile, half a mile with a crack shot," he explained, grinning at the awe-struck expressions the twins had.

"If anyone wondered what to get me for Christmas, now you know," Fred chuckled as he finally found the strength to move his slack jaw.

"Dito, brother," George uttered, his gaze still riveted on the gun as if it had Veela heritage.

"Nice ones, really beautiful pieces," Henry observed the custom to praise a collection before discussing it. "Any particular reason for using those that I should be aware of?"

"Actually, while there are more modern and better guns on the market, these usually don't work for us, at all," Lenny confessed. "Magic has a way of interacting with them, making them jam. I think they are too tight in tolerance, with too many moving parts. These older designs are more rugged, so it doesn't matter that much when a bit of magic messes with them."

"Makes sense. Both have a reputation of being really reliable," Henry agreed. "Why don't we have more of them?"

"They don't work."

Henry squinted his eyes at Lenny, before turning to his daughter.

"Is there a rule that says wizardpeople may never give a straight answer?"

"I don't know, is there? Do we?" Hermione countered with a smile.

"We don't, do we?" Fred replied.

"We do, don't we?" George chimed in.

"Why did I even think there might be help from your sides," Henry muttered, shaking his head. "Ok, Lenny, you lost me here. What do you mead with they don't work? You just said they are are more resistant than others and still work?"

"They are, and they do. Kinda. Unmodified, they work for some time, with only occasional jams, as long as you don't get on a boat. In such a magically charged area, they jam almost instantly. But unlike other guns, they don't break quickly under these circumstances. But still, they are quite useless, since I can't adapt them," Lenny replied.

"What do you mean? What adaptation?" Hermione interrupted, not used to not being the one to ask the questions.

"Charming them to fire," Lenny replied. "Buying ammunition is too expensive for us. I've tried everything, but nothing works."

Fred was all ears. "My brother and I would like to offer our help, if you want. What is the problem?"

Lenny hesitated only a brief moment, contemplating if it was worth the trouble, before nodding his consent. He had seen some of the things they had come up with. Maybe, just maybe, they could help. Anyway, any of them knew far more spells than he did. "Well, our main problem is that we can only use one trigger for the enchanting," he told them, reaching under his desk to retrieve a flintlock pistol.

"You see, we have either a blast enchantment or a powder conjuration on the barrel, the trigger is either the hammer impact, or the good, old-fashioned flint spark. Usually, the flint is made impervious, then, to prevent it from shattering after a few shots," Lenny explained, pointing out parts and runes used to create the effects.

"There are self-cleaning charms on the barrel to stop fouling, and the powder or blast enchantment is made to create a set amount of power, only, as you know," he continued, giving them a stern glare at the end. The twins blew him kisses in reply.

"The problem is that these new guns are designed to use these for projectiles," he continued, retrieving a box from the place he had produced the rifle and pistol from. Setting it on the workbench, he lifted the top, and revealed a handful of mixed loose cartridges, for both guns.

"These are brass casings, filled with the necessary amount of powder, and a projectile press-fitted. I don't know the exact mechanism, but hitting this small copper inlay at the back seems to be the way to ignite the charge, probably by some kind of volatile compound," Lenny explained.

"Mercury fulminate," both Grangers spoke up in unison. When Lenny stared at them in confusion, both Grangers made motions to elaborate, but stopped as they saw the other do so, as well.

"Your stage," Hermione ceded, smiling at her father. "You know more than I," she added, getting confused stares by the twins, who couldn't quite fathom anybody knowing more than her.

"Thank you," Henry gracefully accepted his daughter's concession. Hermione couldn't help but blush slightly, which made him smirk at her before he continued. "The inlay is a copper cap, called primer. There are a couple of substances that are volatile enough to be set off by impact, yet safe enough to not ignite when, say, dropped. Mercury fulminate is the most common. It will ignite when the firing pin drops."

"Firing pin?" Fred asked. It was pretty clear that he was thinking of the bowling variety, given his confused look.

"A small protrusion on the face of the bolt," Henry replied.

The twins looked at Lenny for help, but he wasn't any better at understanding. "Bolt?" They chorused.

"You know how these guns work?" Lenny asked, looking a bit wary at the thought of how much he didn't understood. "I mean, I do know how to load and shoot them, but when I tried to look into them, they seem quite complex. I must admit that I had to resort to a reparo spell to put them back together after I tried to unscrew the rifle and it fell apart on me."

"I'm a bit puzzled, too," Harry admitted. "How come that you know about this? Were you in the army?" He didn't feel the need to ask about Hermione. He knew her answer, already. Or at least could guess it.

Henry's reply proved his parentage. "I read." He replied with an all to familiar frown. The roll of the eyes that his daughter usually combined with that frown was probably either coming from Margret's side, or a general female thing, Harry mused.

"Long story, by the time I graduated, the general draft was long over, so no, I wasn't in the military, and I wasn't drafted for the Falklands, either. I'm a bit of a history buff, you know. I do have quite a few books about history, especially British military history, and military technology. Hermione only read a few of the history ones, for she thinks the technical ones are boring," Henry elaborated on the question hanging in the room. Harry couldn't prevent a slight snort escaping him, while the twins were acting shocked that Hermione would ignore any kind of book. The young woman in question chose to simply ignore the jab at her. Lenny was oblivious to that insider joke, and far too happy to have somebody to ask.

"Great! Take it apart and show me how it works!" He said, shoving the rifle across the counter, towards Henry.

"Hold your horses, Lenny. I'm not an expert, but I know a couple of things," Henry tried to calm the man down, his hands raised in a placating manner. He was pretty sure there was a way to disassemble the gun for cleaning, but he'd need some time to tinker around to find it.

"Let's stay on topic with the ammunition, first. You said there is a problem with it?" He deflected the topic to something he felt was more important. After all, without it, you could just as well wave a stick at the enemy.

"You can say so," Lenny replied, downtrodden. "I can't figure out how to make it. I just don't know the right spell. I can make most parts of it, but can't make them all in one go."

"Have you tried a duplication charm?" George offered his advice. "If that magazine were to duplicate these whatsitsnames..."

"Rounds, or cartridges," Henry offered.

"Even though these are pointy?" George inquired, but caught himself. "Anyway, when you duplicate them in there, it might work," he exclaimed, pointing at the magazine.

"Don't know that spell," Lenny admitted with a shrug. None of the Hogwarts alumni were surprised, transfiguration was an art form. Only at higher NEWT level you'd be expected to duplicate or create things at a whim. After graduating, most people never bother again, and use codified charms to transfigure things they need. Only a few keep on doing it the right way.

Henry was more of a practical man than a talker, so he proposed to get along. "Can you duplicate one of these, so we can have a look at the result?" He asked, putting a cartridge for the Kalashnikov in front of George.

The boy's confident smile vanished when his first try only produced an empty brass casing, with only an indentation and a hole at the bottom.

"You forgot to duplicate all parts of it," Hermione advised him, instantly. George picked up the uncooperative object to scrutinize it closer, before setting it down, again, and trying once more. Speaking the first part three times, tapping it in three different places for each time, before swishing the wand in the complicated pattern and speaking the final part of the incantation, he created another one.

His second try came pretty close, until Henry took it and shook it. "Feels lighter than the other one. Let's take it apart."

"Could you charm the bullet out of it or do we need to get tongs?" He asked his daughter.

A moment later - about as long as it took her to smirk and pull her wand - the cartridge was disassembled. A second request made her pop out the primer cap.

"Ok, no powder inside, I thought that might happen. And for that primer - could you smack with a hammer on the anvil, Lenny, and see if it goes off?"

All eyes were on Lenny as he performed the test, but other than a flat piece of copper, there was no result.

"Thought so. You didn't know about the coating, so you could not make it, right?" Henry stated his theory.

"Even if we knew, such things are beyond a duplication charm," George replied.

"That charm is nifty, but pretty dumb in what materials it can make."

"Also, you can only duplicate what you can touch. You may need to create each grain of powder one by one," Hermione agreed. "The spell will copy an existing object, but only if you touch it to scan it."

"Tricky," Henry agreed. "So it may in theory be able to recreate a car, but only if you take it apart to touch each and every little bit and bob?"

"And then it would only create the parts, but not in the right position to each other, since they weren't there when you touched them," Hermione corrected him. "You'd need to reassemble it by hand."

Henry acknowledged this with a nod. "So it's just a quick and dirty 'copy what you can see'. Is there a different spell would work better?"

"If you knew exactly what you need, you can always conjure it, directly, but that would take some time, as you would build it piece by piece." Fred spoke up.

Henry furrowed his brow. "But I saw you guys create cups of steaming tea, or chairs, with just a few waves of a wand."

"That's because there are specific transfiguration spells for those made. For the lack of a better term, the conjuration is packaged into a pre-formed spell. Especially for the tea, as you need it to vanish before it is absorbed into the body," Hermione explained. "That's why it comes with a cup – the cup gets charmed to vanish the tea during the conjuration spell. It's really advanced spellwork, I've never seen anyone but McGonagall or Dumbledore do it manually."

"Interesting," Henry replied, before grinning. " So it can be done. Now, can YOU make up such a spell for bullets?"

For a moment, Hermione hesitated, while the twins exchanged glances.

"We did dabble in spell creation a bit for some of our products," George admitted, glancing at his brother.

"While Hermione here certainly has some reservations because it is restricted to licensed professionals in Britain," Fred continued with ease.

"And it can be dangerous if you try for ambitious effects, true," George interrupted his brother, who elegantly shut up just to continue when his brother was done.

"It's actually pretty simple, even for people like us who only read bits and bobs about Arithmacy and things."

"If Hermione would join forces with us, we could do great things," George finished for them.

"Evil, terrible things, yes. But great," Harry muttered a joke only he would get under his breath, just loud enough to be overheard.

"Indeed," Lenny agreed with a chuckle that was shared by everyone but the scandalized twins. Moments later, a discussion erupted between the present members of the Granger and Weasley bloodlines, with two bystanders trying to keep with them.

A bit later, Harry felt an elbow intruding into the sanctity of his side. "Say, Captain, you understand a thing about what they are on about?" Lenny whispered.

Harry shrugged. "I am not bad at transfiguration, so I get about half of it, and most of what Henry explains, but the rest... No idea. Nominally, I could help with casting, but since I shouldn't even cast a spell, right now, I'm pretty much just audience to this circus."

"Me too, but I'm rubbish at transfiguration, that's why I use that pre-made spell for the gunpowder enchantment," Lenny agreed, wholeheartedly.

"By the way, I got the spells I use to enchant guns in my notebook, third drawer on the left, in case you need them," he called out to Hermine, who briefly stopped, processed and acknowledged the information.

"We'll figure out what spells we swap for, later, ok?" Lenny whispered with Harry.

"Deal," Harry agreed. "We had the whole Black library shifted over to the Villa, so we'll certainly find something for you."

Lenny got a quite paranoid look when he heard that. "A magic library? Captain, this better stays within these walls," he whispered. "That's a kind of wealth people really would kill for in these waters. Most can only refer to Grimoires – actually, just badly made notebooks like mine, if we are frank - that their family has scraped together, and the odd book that made it's way out here, somehow. Trading spells is a major thing, here. Even your old schoolbooks would have quite a value, here."

Harry nodded, thoughtfully, absorbing that news.

"Where was I? Oh, yes - fancy visiting Chtulhu to get some really well fitting material for your new wand? The last ones fit well, but if we are looking at making the whole thing anew, we might just as well find the best for you," Lenny proposed.

"That kind of spells, I do know, at least," he chuckled.

"Might as well," Harry agreed. "See you later, don't blow his shop up," he told the others as he turned to leave.

"Yeah, definitely don't do that," Lenny repeated the sentiment as he said his farewells, as well.

Out of the shop, Lenny led Harry towards the harbour area, walking a few moments in silence before he spoke up.

"Saw you at the burial this morning. People were surprised."

Harry's mood fell quite a bit at the statement. "They died because of my orders, the least I could do was to pay my respects at their burial."

"The last Lord Black wouldn't. You did. He only saw us as peons, you care for your people. I appreciate that, and most others do, as well. You earned yourself a lot of respect that morning, especially when you gave more than the fair share to Fred's girl," Lenny replied, his huge hand briefly grabbing Harry's shoulder.

The boy vehemently rejected the praise. "What else should I have done? She's pregnant!"

"And a whore. Fred had not added her to the list, yet, either. Any other captain, especially the last few Blacks, would have declined her rights. After all, she has no proof and was not on the list. You didn't care, and gave her extra. People respect that."

Harry chose to ignore this conversation by watching the town. People were bustling around, as always, buying stuff, selling stuff at small stands near the bay, as always. But today, whenever they noticed Harry approaching, they briefly stopped to greet him before carrying on with their chores. Harry could almost feel Lenny's grin drilling into his temple.

"I should walk with you more often, makes me feel all important and whatnot," the man chuckled.

"I don't like it. I don't like being treated like somebody special," Harry grumbled, but returned the salutations, anyway.

"Part of your charm, Captain," Lenny replied amiably. "You own this island, per inheritance. You never expected any respect because of who you were born as, or your prior actions, even though your fame has followed you here, as well. At first, most people were wary about you, a famous kid playing pirate with the grown ups. But you were modest and grounded, even though you are even more powerful than many of your predecessors, and now showed genuine care for your subjects. You never demanded respect, you earned it."

"Lord Black! May I have a word?" A voice called out beside them, stopping any rebuttal Harry might have in mind. A brief glance showed that Matty was approaching them.

"Sorry to interrupt you, I hope it wasn't too urgent or private," Matty spoke up as he drew closer.

Lenny only waved off the concerns. "Just been updating the Captain on his reputation, Mat."

A brief wave of confusion flickered over Matty's face, gone as fast as it appeared. "Well, in that case, apologies for interrupting, but we do have an urgent problem, kind of," he barged ahead.

"Kind of?" Harry echoed, not catching on, yet.

"I've been checking our storages, and we're pretty much out of every ingredient than can be used in healing potions," Matty explained.

"And this is... kind of... an urgent problem?" Harry asked, still too confused to get off the mental path he had chosen..

"It depends. Are you planning on another journey? And how sure are you of the false trail you lured them on with your retreat route?" Matty snarked matter-of-factly.

"He does have a point, Captain," Lenny agreed with an ear to ear smile.

Harry could only barely suppress the urge to roll his eyes when he finally realized he had been taken a polite phrasing way too serious. "Ok, I get it, an urgent problem. When are we getting new supplies?"

"Depends. When are you going to get some?" Matty returned the question. "Per charter, the Captain comes up for what his crew needs. And to be frank, we can't afford it, anyway. This stash was built over months, you see."

"Right. I'll look into it," Harry committed lightly. He knew that his gold stash at the island was dwindling, especially due to his promise of extra shares and the fact that his prize was pretty much worthless. Right now, it was little more than firewood, until it was rebuilt. Wet firewood. And he had given it away, as well.

"Anything on the loot? Was it sold, already?" He inquired.

"Dunno," Matty admitted, scratching his head. "I'm not really in the loop for that. You should ask your Mr. Higgs, or maybe William, the ship is in his dock, after all."

"I will," Harry replied, and felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"We can drop by on the way, it's actually on our way, kind of," Lenny joined the conversation with intention to end it.

"Ah, heading for the cave?" Matty asked, getting a curt nod as reply. "Take care to close and wedge the gate really good, last Wednesday, a dog managed to get in and got to the fish racks," he remarked before tipping his hat, bidding goodbye, and leaving in a hurried pace to lord knows where.

Harry needed to know what that last comment meant. "Fish racks?"

"Well, you see, on an island like this, you need some storage for perishables," Lenny explained as they continued their way. "This rotten heat makes things, well, rot," Lenny chuckled at his verbal lapse. "In our case, there is a quite big cave at the far side of the town, which opens to the sea at low tide. The rock keeps the heat away, and after a few generations of carving preservation runes into the walls, it has become a quite good storage. When the squid was washed ashore, we just hauled it into the cave and inside. Took all of us to levitate it on some planks and rollers, and a few hour to haul it in. Takes up half of the cave, but it gives a constant income to the town, other than the sale of... flotsam," Lenny told the tale Harry had wanted to hear, neatly covering the time for them to reach the wharf.

If you could call it that, the few half-done dinghies had been chucked out to clear room for the wounded, so it was a hell of a mess, but it was more a boat building workshop than a wharf. To be fair, right now, it did resemble a true one a bit more, with the plucked Raven tied up on the beach nearby, her bulk out of water in the currently low tide exposing the damage. Huge holes were visible, sometimes entire planks seemed to hang loose, hanging barely on to their fastenings. Three men were busy moving huge round timbers at her bow, and ramming posts into the beach ground, in a line towards a gigantic pulley system anchored into the rock cliff behind the beach.

"Lord Potter-Black? I did not expect you to swing by that early," William, the owner of the operation greeted them, rushing to meet them with an outstretched hand when he realized they weren't heading into the building, but towards him. "I apologize, I can't say much about her state, yet. We only just managed to haul her halfway, we'll need two or three more tides to have her completely out."

"Don't worry, we were just passing by, I'll be around in a day or two with the new Captain, having her input in what she'd like to be done," Harry replied, enduring having his arm almost ripped off by hard shaking, musing that craftsmen really don't have any measure on their strength.

"A lot, by any means. Even without a keener glance, I hardly ever saw anything as bad as this. If it weren't for the freezing charms you used, I doubt she would have made it here. A great idea, by the way, you mind trading that spell in for something?"

Harry had to force his gaze off the ship shaped lump of firewood he had paid a fortune in gold, and blood, for. "We'll look into that, later. What about her freight?"

"Not much, mostly provisions, and a bit of spares. Some good sails and ropes, though. And a bit of gold and rum, for the crew. Nothing that counts a lot towards the repairs. But she'll be a beauty once we get her back in shape, for sure," William tried to reassure his client, reading the intentions for the inquiry right. "She'll be as pretty as the _Gretty_ , shame these ruffians scuttled her."

"Thank you, we'll be on our way then," Harry replied, a bit downtrodden, turning to leave, with Lenny indicating the way.

Lenny was his usual curious self. "Money being tight, Gov? I thought the Blacks were loaded?"

"Yes, and yes, they are. It's just that my pocket money is getting tight, the last payroll was a bit larger," Harry joked, grinning as Lenny broke into chuckles. "Just need to get to the mainland to refill my coffers."

"Sounds like a plan, Governor. Or you could start capturing merchant vessels instead of warships. Much better value, I've heard. Or at least don't blow them up like the last one," he said as they approached a rough shed-like building jutting out of the cliff, a short way behind that huge pulley for the Raven.

There was no way Harry would let this insult rest, uncontested. "Hey! I only did a few holes, the rest is from when they tried to get it back!"

"How unreasonable of them," Lenny snarked as the removed a few logs that were wedged against the door, and pulled it open for Harry to pass. "After you, watch your step, the floor's rough!"

It took Harry a few seconds to adjust his sight from the blueish hues of caribbean brightness to the gloom inside the cave. Nearby were the fish racks which had been mentioned, with fish lined up on hooks, some dried, some salted, some fresh. The lack of smell in the clean air made the magic at work pretty obvious. At first, Harry thought the light was magical, too. Only after a few more moments, he realized it was, but in a different way. About half the cave floor was rock, gradually turning into crushed shells and finer sand as it sloped into an underwater shore. And what a shore it was. Only thirty or forty feet of water, along a good fifty yard shoreline that went on a bit further behind a huge rock at the far edge of the cave, obstructing the view at the water behind it. The ocean in this region was famous for the deep blue hue, but in this darkness, the water gleamed in azure light, channelling the sun into the grotto, the waves painting strange, ever-moving patterns of light on the walls. Everything was bathed in this mythical blue light, with the gleaming water in the background.

Harry was mesmerized by the light, and stood in motionless awe, watching. While his eyes adjusted to the dark, the colours and patterns became more vivid, and the outline of the cave clear. And suddenly, he realized that there was no rock at the shoreline.

"...and after aeons, even death may die..." Harry could hear the end of something Lenny had whispered.

"What?" He asked, perplexed at the interruption of his moment of clarity

"Nothing, nothing," Lenny tried to reassure him with a grin.

"This is... huge," Harry stated the obvious, but felt he was not using the right words. The giant squid at Hogwarts was huge, this thing... was something out of nightmares and fever dreams. It looked like it would eat the Hogwarts squid for starters. Harry was sure it was at least as long as the Revenge, if not longer, and one of the tentacles, one with a flat end, seemed to be a lot longer than the others. People had wound it up like a anchor truss to store it properly. The milky eye scrutinizing him, even in death, was big enough that Harry could see himself curl up in it's socket. Describing it properly would call for a poet.

"And then some," Lenny agreed. "I paced it at 200 feet, give or take. It's not even the largest ever seen, I think. I've heard tales of some twice this size or longer. People say they only get a certain size, but rumour I believe to be true has it they never really stop growing as long as they can still find enough food."

"Did these tales include them sinking ships?" Harry joked, immediately realizing that this was not quite as impossible a thought once you faced one of them. He gave in to reach out and touch it. The skin was slick, oily, preserved by the charms in the cave. Harry could feel occasional hard lines of scars, visible as criss-crossing white lines all over it. Occasionally, there was a indention where meat had been ripped out and healed over. But there were some open wounds, as well.

"They did. It's not uncommon. See these suckers?" Lenny replied, pointing at one of the curled up arms which seemed like it could curl around the Raven or Pathfinder with ease. "Look closely, they got teeth on those, as well. Once they grab hold of a ship, they can tear the planks right off. Without magic holding it together, it's a one way ticket to Davy Jones' locker."

It was impossible to suppress the shudder that ran down Harry's spine at this thought. The suckers were as large as dinner plates, long rows of them along each arm, and a ring of teeth, as long as his thumb, curved inwards, surrounded the sucker. Whatever this creature got hold of would not go anywhere. And the arm was a good three or four feet diameter where he stood, even more at the base, all muscle. Lenny was right, a wooden ship would be done for, he knew. "That happens a lot?"

Lenny sighed. "Not anymore. They occasionally attacked whalers, back in the days, but since that business went away, so did the attacks." Looking at the huge carcass, he slowly reached for his wand. "Do not worry, I'm going to cast a spell on you, to help me find the perfect bit, alright?"

Harry nodded, and Lenny waved his wand at him, making the tip glow blueish, and then started to wave it over the carcass.

Harry watched him for a moment, before asking a question that came to his mind. "Why whalers?"

Lenny turned around, irritated. "What?"

"Why whalers? You said they attacked their ships."

"Oh, right, whalers," Lenny replied, turning around to continue his work. "Whale blood. They never let a chance to kill a sperm whale slide. When they smell their blood, they come to make sure it's dead."

"Why? Do they eat them?"

Lenny huffed briefly as he climbed over an arm and along another, scanning all over with his wand. "The other way round. Sperm whales eat them."

To say Harry was surprised would be an understatement. Waving his hands at the monstrosity in front of him, he asked, "The whales eat THEM? How?"

"No," was the laughing reply. "Not the adults," Lenny chided. "Their young! The normals call them giant squids, as well, little do they know. About a dozen yard in length, they live in that larval state for some time, and every now and then, one that survived long enough starts migrating deeper, changes into adult form and starts growing. If they keep up, they become an adult like this one."

"It's hard to look at one of these and think of them as prey," Harry admitted.

"Everyone has times they are vulnerable," Lenny replied, pausing. "Think that applies to all of us. See the scars all over it, this one was in a lot of fights. Whales are faster, so it can't run from them. This one never lost a fight. For decades, maybe centuries. Until it did. If you walk around, you'll see the wounds it died from."

Harry did as told, and could see that huge chunks were missing from the other side of the body. "Wow," he gasped. "A whale did this?"

"Whales. They took off three arms, as well. Dunno how many they were, but when it washed ashore, it still had two in its grasp, and three more were washed ashore in the general area, all sporting squid-based injuries. Must have been a hell of a fight," Lenny spoke from further away, moving his wand along and over to the rolled up longer arm.

"Makes you think, don't it? It ruled the sea, until got caught by a group too large to beat," Harry summed his thoughts up.

"There you are!" Lenny called out when the tip of his wand glowed white when he approached the tip of the long arm. "The seeker arm. Strange location, but fine, if it fits you, then it fits. You're lucky the whales only took one of these off. Give me a minute, and I'll harvest what we need."

"And I doubt it," Lenny picked the thread of their conversation up where they dropped it, while putting his wand away, and pulling a bag from his pocket. Unrolling it, it revealed a lot of vicious knives in various shapes. "I'm pretty sure it started the fight, itself."

"You think?"

"I've been told these whale carcasses had their belly full on squid. They were hunting. Mommy was not happy with that."

Harry was taken aback by that. "Mommy? This is a female? People called it a him."

Lenny only grunted, carving deep into the arm with a long knife, and lifting a flap of skin off the arm. "People say a lot about things they don't know a thing about. This is a female, trust me,"

"She died defending her babies? Against a pack of whales?"

"Pod. Or School. Groups of whales are called either a pod or school," Lenny corrected. "You know, groups of squid are called a school, as well, but I'd prefer calling them a squad, personally, though," he chuckled, carving along.

"You have it right, sounds better," Harry agreed with a snort of amusement. "Still, attacking a school of five or more. Seems so senseless. And stupid. She must have known she had no chance."

Lenny stopped his work and gave Harry a long look. "So did you when you went against the fort and fleet to improve the odds for the others, didn't you?" He asked with a smile, and started to bag a long string of meat he had cut free.

Harry could not follow. "This was different, I had no choice."

Lenny had to laugh at the reply. "Keep lying, and you might believe it, yourself, someday. You could have tried to run after freeing your family, or accepted reality and never attempted the rescue, at all. You could have holed up on the island, hoping they don't find us, or we could all have abandoned it and looked for a new home."

"I could never leave them captive," Harry rebuked the proposal. He was scandalized that Lenny would propose something like that.

"Indeed, you never could. Others, maybe. The option existed, the choice was yours."

"There was never any choice," Harry kept on denying.

"There was. We always have a choice, but not all choices are equal or to our liking," Lenny told him as he cleaned and packed his things. "For you, the choice was obvious. You would not hesitate to die for your folks, and she died for hers. There never was another option for any of you. In a way, you two are quite alike."

Harry had no reply to this. He tried, but he could not come up with a rebuttal. He settled for staring at the corpse in front of him, seeing it in a very different light. He only stopped when Lenny gave him a brief shake when he did not react to words, and motioned for the exit.

It was a very deep in thought Harry who made his way back along with Lenny, who did his best to keep the amiable silence.

ooOOoo

AN:

What a year. Got a son out of it, but in the process, we almost lost that kid, three times, and the last time during birth my wife's live was also on that list. Trouble continued after the kid was there, with wife currently recovering from emergency surgery.

Both are fine, now, but I seriously would like to forget 2016, forever.

Which is not too hard , as I barely remember much but the events mentioned above. Did I mention that we were building house, as well, during all this? (Still in progress...)

Anyway, Merry Christmas to all of you, and a Happy New Year.


	5. Q who?

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

 **In enemy waters**

By DerLaCroix

 **Chapter 5 – Q Who?**

When they finally made their way back to the shop, Lenny's desk was a mess. Tongs, pliers, and various measuring instruments were strewn across, and at least two blocks worth of paper were either littered all over it, or crumpled and messing up the floor of the shop. Even to someone as careless as Harry, the amount of mess in a room like this screamed fire hazard.

Lenny's concerns were of different nature. "Please tell me none of these pages are out of my Grimoire!" He pleaded.

Hermione's head shot up from the group huddle over a page. "What? Oh! You're back! Did you succeed?" She asked with a smile, tucking a loose strand of hair obscuring her vision behind her ear.

"We did," Lenny replied for the both of them. "But I noticed that you did not answer me. Does that mean you did rip pages out of my Grimoire?"

Hermione was scandalized that he would imply such a thing. "What!? Of course not! We'd never!"

In reply, Lenny pointed at the mess they made, a smirk on his face. "Really? Never?"

"Ok, maybe we got a bit carried away," she had to admit, blushing as she realized the state of the room.

"Is there anything left to write on? Or did you use it all up?" Lenny asked, the smirk still in effect.

"Actually, we think we are done," Fred remarked, blatantly trying to defuse the argument.

"Or almost," George added, twirling and waving his wand until a round appeared on the countertop, out of nowhere. A few more waves, taps and twirls later, it was a complete cartridge, topped by a bullet, and got snatched up by Fred, who tapped the bottom of a real round, duplicating the primer cap, and then used a spell to put it into the freshly conjured round.

Henry immediately took it, marked it with a number, and started measuring it while scribbling the results down, before adding it to a few others already lying in a bowl. "At the moment we're still cheating with the primer cap, as you can see," Hermione admitted. "We still need to create a spell for that part, and then add it to the rest."

"Henry says that these new guns use something stronger than blackpowder, we need to get a hold on some more info, so we can create a spell for that stuff, as well, and switch the blackpowder out for that," George provided some more information about their progress.

"Not only that," Henry finally spoke up, having finished his notes. "I think the blackpowder could damage the action of the gun, at least long term. The blackpowder smoke is just too dirty, I think. It fouls up the barrels pretty fast, and everything else even faster. Hermione thinks we could solve that with a cleaning spell, for now, but shouldn't add an enchantment."

"We could, but I think we can't spare the magic used to clean the rifle constantly. We should rather concentrate all efforts on the ammunition creation, don't you think?" Hermione defended her opinion. Harry thought she had a point, there, but then, she usually had. What good is a squeaky clean rifle when you're out of ammo. Just as well, he couldn't help to notice how much he liked it when she got all flustered like this.

Henry was on her side, anyway, in that argument. "I'm not disputing it, I merely cited the source, darling," he replied absent-mindedly while finishing his last numbers and checking the columns against, sighing. "But anyway, we still need to get the tolerances a bit tighter, these ones are still too different."

Fred wasn't quite happy with that. "Still? They look pretty good to me!" He complained.

In response, Henry took a handful of the cartridges and lined them up on the table, sorting them by height. Then, he put the ones at the ends next to each other. Even to a casual observer, it became obvious that there was quite a bit difference in height between the shortest and the tallest.

"Pretty close," Harry agreed. "That can't be more than two millimetres, right? Isn't that enough?"

"Depends on where. The length is only one issue, the diameter is wrong, as well," Henry replied. "You know what? Show, not tell," he suddenly stated, and started loading the curved magazine with a handful of these rounds. Once he was done, he stood and picked up the rifle, sticking the magazine into it, giving it a whack at the bottom to make sure it was in. Pointing it at a large stack of wooden boards in a corner that definitely hadn't been there when Harry and Lenny had left, he asked his daughter to silence the gun.

"It still is, I never took it off," was her reply. "And yes, I did clean it after your last test," she anticipated his next question when he rose his hand, index finger extended, while opening his mouth to speak.

"Oh! Fine, nevermind then," he replied, before taking a clear plastic face shield from below the table and putting it on. Grabbing the rifle, he went over to the boards and very reluctantly put himself into position facing them, before pulling a metal latch on the side back with authority, and letting it snap forward on it's own. Only once that was done he let got of his held breath.

Carefully, he operated a small knob on the side of the gun, mumbling under his breath, "One, two," and checking that the setting was actually correct before taking a firing position.

It was quite obvious by his cramped stance that he didn't really want to be anywhere near this contraption, holding the rifle at belly height and leaning away from it.

While Harry couldn't see it with Henry's back turned on them, he was pretty sure that the man was even closing in his eyes, the way he was all but cringing in preparation to actually fire the gun.

The gun bucked silently in Henry's hand as he finally triggered a single shot. It was accompanied by a sharp bark from the direction of the wooden panels as a few splinters and a bit of dust suddenly appeared around a hole. Harry absent-mindedly realized that there were a couple more holes across them, when the sound of a bouncing empty casing and Henry's sigh of relief caught his attention.

"One good," he said, pulling the trigger, again. The next shot went off, fine, but Henry called out "Jam!" Just then, Harry realized that there had been no cling-cling, this time. Operating the charging handle again, Henry shook the empty case out of the gun. When he released the handle to let it snap forward, the gun fired, immediately, making Henry, jump and curse, before jamming, again.

"Holy shit! Are you alright?" Lenny exclaimed, being the first to recover from the collective 'please pee your pants, now' feeling in the room.

"You see, there is still a bit room for improvement," Henry chuckled, trying to hide his frayed nerves behind levity. "But in theory, it works."

"Let me see," Lenny demanded, moving up to his side, but a step behind. "Why did it jam?"

Henry turned the gun to look at the action, slowly and careful to not sweep the muzzle over anything or -one he'd miss having around, while Lenny peeked over his shoulder. "See how the empty cartridge is still stuck in the chamber? Probably too long, and wasn't pulled out completely by the extracting hook in there, if you ask me. So the next round was picked up and jammed between the bolt and the old cartridge that was still partially in there."

"Or maybe the groove the hook grabs into wasn't quite right, and slipped off," he added. "We need to measure these, too, I guess."

"Will it clear? Or do you need tools?" Lenny asked.

Henry shrugged. "Dunno, let's see." Bracing the stock against his belly, he used his right hand to pull on the handle to move the bolt back, while pushing the one extra round back into the magazine with his other hand. Holding the bolt open, he leaned the rifle over to his right and shook it, so that the crumpled old casing could fall out. It did after a few shakes. Releasing the bolt, it snapped forward, picked up the new round and jammed, right again, the bolt still open with a tiny gap leaving a brassy glint of the base of the round still visible. Frowning, Henry pulled the bolt back again, but this time, the cartridge remained where it was, the bullet and neck firmly jammed in the barrel, resisting all the shaking Henry imposed on in.

"Crap. This time, we stuck it for good," Henry admitted with a chuckle. "Don't bother with tools, we can just wait for a few minutes, it will go poof by then," he advised Lenny, who had started for the desk the tools were lying on.

Lenny shrugged, and motioned for Henry to hand over the gun, "let me have a look at it, at least."

He had been inspecting the action for a while when that prophecy came true and the gun cleared, along with the contents of the magazine, except for the powder, which Hermione quickly vanished separately, making Lenny aware of it.

"Interesting. Why is it not vanishing along with the brass? Aren't you conjuring it?" he prompted, asking Fred.

"Not exactly," Fred explained, pausing. "That's too complex to conjure on the fly. So I'm making the casing, then I actually cast your powder spell to fill it, and then I continue conjuring the bullet. Your spell lasts a couple of hours, though, so it stays behind after the rest vanishes."

"Makes sense. How long do they last?" He inquired, curiously.

"About ten minutes. We could get them to last longer, but saw no need. Just long enough to hit the target is fine, doesn't matter if it vanishes after doing damage," Hermione explained.

Lenny nodded in agreement. The balls which were conjured by his combat kit ammo pouches sometimes lasted less than that. Which was more than enough to reload and fire. He also sold casting moulds for actual lead balls, and real blackpowder they smuggled in from Muggle islands, which were used to stay ready for prolonged times. "Can I get some more, to test myself?" He asked, and promptly received, courtesy of Fred, while Lenny watched him carefully as he was casting the spells.

For Lenny, the gun fired only once before jamming. Wordlessly, Lenny put it on the bench, and reached for a pair of pliers, propping the bolt open and clearing the jam. "Yeah, there's still a problem or two," he said as he inspected the slightly crumpled casing, before closely peering inside the action, trying to see what happened while he slowly worked the action back and forth.

"I believe we can get this under control, though," Fred replied. "We just need to implement a size control formula in the final spell."

"Even if you could get them just right, I think we hit a snag, anyway," Lenny spoke up from his work, getting their attention.

"Look here," he told Fred, pointing at the action he operated. Pushing the round back in the magazine instead of letting it jump out, he kept on moving the bolt slowly back forward, to chamber it, again.

"See it?" He asked, causing the others to also move closer and peek into the opening, at well. Harry knew that he was just a gawker in this show, but seized the occasion to come up behind Hermione and wrap his arms around her, startling her briefly, and finishing with a brief kiss brushing her neck that made her smile for just a moment longer. Realizing that Hermione was adamant to not let him distract her too much, he settled for keeping up with the hug, and peered over her shoulder. He was pretty sure she did that barely noticeable grind with her bum against him on purpose, but he was not about to complain.

"Watch the bolt and round," Lenny instructed them, operating the action a couple of times, pushing the round back into the magazine each time. "You see how the round is picked up and the others are pushed up, flush, immediately?"

"How could we miss this!" Hermione exclaimed, snapping upright, and bucking Harry off in the process, much to the twin's enjoyment at his stumbling to not go arse over tea kettle. "Sorry," she mumbled in his direction, sounding mortified, before trying explaining her actions. "I just saw it! There is no space left for the new round to appear in, the spring interferes!"

"Because you were looking for solutions, and I was looking for flaws," Lenny replied. Upon Hermione's confused gaze, he elaborated. "You guys were trying to make the ammo work, and I think you've done admirably. It'd taken me weeks to even get to making the cases, and you are already at the fine-tuning. But I am looking at making a weapon work, and the best way to do that is to look at what could go wrong, eliminating the catastrophes, and only care for smoother function and quality once you've made sure it works and won't kill yourself."

"For example, the accidental discharge was bad. Like, really bad bad. That could hurt you or someone you did not want to shoot."

"Dunno what caused that," Henry admitted. "Maybe there was something off with the primer, going off while chambering? Especially since at the second selector setting, it should only fire one round at a time."

"Really says something about you when you design your gun to go save – full auto – single shot instead of save – single – full auto," he added, chuckling over his own joke. Alone.

"Anyway," he harrumphed, "usually the problem is the other way round – failure to extract and cycle."

"Maybe an issue with the powder charge size? You said they usually use a different one?" Lenny uttered his guess. "The spell I showed you is for a set amount of powder. One for pistol, two or three times for a long gun, depending on calibre."

"Yes, the notes said so," Hermione replied. "We used one time, kind of what fit best in the casing, with only a bit air left."

"What? Oh boy, you guys were lucky you didn't blow yourself up, then," he gasped, throwing his hands in the air. "Blackpowder needs to be compressed, with no air bubble, or things get risky. That's why we use ramrods!" he ranted on, pacing around a bit, mumbling unintelligible things.

"To be honest, we did have stuff blowing out of the top, once. Not a funny moment, if you ask me!" George pointed out, making the pacing and mumbling only worse.

Henry could only agree with that. "Oh yes, that had been scary! At least I had you three to patch me up, quickly."

"Everything ok?" Harry inquired immediately, now that they mentioned that there had been an accident.

"Just singed my pride and hairdo. They made me presentable, again, and made me this face shield, just in case," Henry replied with a calming smile and nod of his head at the boy who was eyeing him over for injuries. "Turned out the round was waaaay off measurements and did not plug the barrel properly, so a good bit of gas vented out the top," he added.

Lenny nodded his approval to this theory, a frown on his face. "Anyway – impossible luck aside, it might be that it still wasn't enough or too much powder. An advanced system like this most likely only works with exact the right amount of gas. Too little means it doesn't move far enough, too much means it moves too fast for things to work properly."

The round of rapidly widening eyes told him that this never even occurred to them. A better man than Lenny would have refrained to shake his head in exasperation.

This time, Harry was sure he did understand the word 'amateurs' in the mumbling.

"Anything else you find fault with?" Henry made the mistake of asking the gunsmith, jokingly.

"Apart from the fact that you did not tackle the issue of the gun jamming on its own, anyway, when on board of an enchanted ship?" Lenny heckled.

"Yes. First things first. If we don't have anything to shoot with, at all, jamming is not a priority. Once we got the ammo settled, we'll tackle the gun," Henry defended their decision.

"You've got a point, kind of. Anyway – while you're asking, other than that pesky maybe blowing up problem, Weasley took almost five seconds to make one of these rounds. What did you say about the rifle, earlier? It fires like, what? Five times a second?" Lenny informed them of his other observations, and letting them come to their own matching conclusion.

Now it was Henry's turn to be mortified. "Bollocks! You're right! It's more like ten times, even worse. We never get that fast!"

"What if we do a whole of these banana box magazine thingamabobs at once?" George inquired.

"That'd even worse, I'd assume. Means making the magazine and 30 rounds. If we manage to make it so that the spring doesn't interfere," Hermione started, getting interrupted by Fred.

"We'll just make the spring last?" He offered.

"Hmm, could work," Hermione agreed. "Still, we'd be looking at a couple minutes for each. If it works out in a linear fashion."

"Enchantments never do," Lenny interrupted. "They draw from ambient magic. The powder spell is almost instant if cast, but as an enchantment? We rarely use it that way, but I 'd guess it'd take a few seconds for an enchantment version to power up and kick in. Creating so much at the same time will slow the process down, a lot, as well. And don't even ask me about time to disperse for your brass and balls. With a full magazine at once, it might even happen that parts dissolve while others are still appearing."

"Well, let us look into this for a few days, maybe we'll come up with a solution," Fred proposed. "After all, we still need to add a few things to the spell, so we need to tweak it, anyway.

"There's usually a way," George agreed. "We always managed to improve on our stuff, this should be no different."

"If you say so," Lenny replied. "I'll certainly be the last one to try and stop you. You already got further than anyone I've heard of. But it's a brutal task you set yourselves."

"Happens if you want to skip a century or two of technological advance overnight," Henry quipped.

"Really? Two centuries?" Lenny inquired, baffled by the scope Henry proposed.

"More or less. Let me think about it. Starting at flintlocks... the fist major change... Hmm," Henry pondered, preparing his reply.

"Wheellocks were around at least since 1520, since that's when a decree tried to ban them for commoners, so they are actually a good 100 years older than flintlocks, but also kind of a fad for wealthy people that never really caught on once the standard flintlock was invented, even though they stayed around. I think we should ignore these," he mused aloud, before stopping himself from going off on a tangent.

"Flintlocks came up right around sixteen hundred, and pretty soon were the standard. This weapon was around for a good hundred to hundred and fifty years with only minor changes, until someone came up with a genius idea – using something that is more reliable than flint and a powder pan exposed to the elements. Percussion caps came up in the early eighteens, tens to twenties. Percussion strips, too. They made guns so much more reliable, even in bad weather, and sparked a chain reaction in developments, if you excuse the pun," he spoke with a wide grin.

"By mid eighteenhundreds, caps were finally common. People then started to try making rifles a thing, and toyed around with revolvers and breech loaders to increase accuracy, reload times, and ammunition capacity. By the sixties and the time of the US American civil war, people already started switching to various types of self contained rounds and fast reloading or multiple shot guns, mostly revolving cylinder variants. Then people tried to make reloading easier and experimented with projectile shapes, and made reloading rifles as fast as smoothbores. A few years later, people came up with various concepts for breechloaders, improving rate of fire even more. After experimenting with hollow projectiles filled with powder, and with paper cartridges, they soon came up with metallic cartridges, first pinfire, then switching to rimfire, then centerfire. These enabled better revolvers and guns using magazines, and various manual mechanisms to reload. Improved, smokeless powder, which reduced fouling and was more powerful per weight – which also led to the need for jacketed ammunition to keep bullets from breaking up – but enabled automatics, which didn't like the dirty blackpowder too well. Thus, designs like your pistol here came up just before the nineteenhundreds – yours is a modern reproduction of the final evolution of a series of improving designs, coming out in 1911. Now... yes, and machineguns shortly after, with assault rifles like the AK here popping up after World War 2, pretty much fifty years ago," Henry finished his rapid-fire dump of his stream of consciousness, actually panting as he had forgotten to pause for breaths.

Harry just had to give Hermione a wink when the similarities between the present Grangers were so obviously on display. He bravely weathered the icy glare she shot back in reply long enough for her to break into the smile she was trying to hide, and hug him.

Lenny was noticeably awe-struck after hearing that list. "Impressive. I never knew there were that many steps in between."

Henry had a big grin on his face. "Amazing, isn't it? And that were just the big jumps, I could go on for hours."

"He can," Hermione agreed, pretending to shake in terror. "I have seen him do that a couple of times, it's not pretty."

Her father countered her attack ruthlessly. "Really? You, of all people, complain about someone lecturing too much?" He replied in a bout of laughter that made a swift round through the room, including Hermione. Only Lenny did not get the joke, but laughed along, anyway.

After exchanging a brief hug with her father, Hermione brought up the idea to use charmed shields.

"I'd love to say that the idea is stupid if we get guns like this, but at the same time, I can't deny it sounds like it could be somewhat useful, I just can't say how," Lenny replied after she had explained what she had in mind, scratching his scalp.

"Actually," Henry spoke up, gathering attention. "You told me that our men use hardly any magic in a fight, and mostly rely on firearms and melee, is that correct, Harry?"

"They might use half a dozen spells or thereabout while closing in, but that's it," the boy in question replied. "They seem to prefer close combat."

"Of course they do," Lenny commented. "Our most powerful spells are cutting and piercing curses. Stunners, at best, but they take a lot out of you. But all our spells are easily deflected or dodged. We are good enough to best most people in a magical fight. Some of us could even shield against spells, at least two times out of three, if you like these odds. We don't. In a pinch, I'm pretty sure I can draw, cock, and fire faster than one of them can get a spell off, but that only helps against a single one. And only if he isn't too well trained. A good one might get me before I get to the hammer. But against a group? Especially against soldiers? A couple of us might be able to take down one or two, but that's it. These guys cast fast, and know actual combat spells that go through anything we put up like a hot knife through butter, but what am I telling you, you are ten times worse than them!"

Harry didn't really thing that the clap on his back at that point was appropriate to the topic, but Lenny was on a run, and did not wait for, or expect an answer before continuing.

"Anyway, that's why, when we encounter a combat vessel, we run. Better than risking it, they aren't worth it, anyway. Barely any cargo and too many of these pricks, as you all know by now. Trade ships, now them's the thing, if you can get one! They usually have a couple soldiers on board, though. But that's why we take cover and use cannons and guns until they are dead or tired enough that they won't be throwing their really bad stuff at us before we close in for boarding. They shoot back with their own guns, of course, but these are better odds than a casting stand-off. Once we board, we rush them while casting spells as fast as we can. They don't do much, that way, but it keeps people from cursing us if they need to keep shields up while we charge."

"And during close combat? Would you use a wand?" Henry inquired, further.

"Only while charging, but I'd prefer a blade in my good hand once we make contact. I can barely cast and at all with my left, but a cutlass is better at blocking and hitting than a wand. I do have a pistol with an axe head for my left, though, if I knowingly go into a fight, and a lanyard for my wand so I can just drop it when I need my blade." Lenny answered.

"So why no shield on your left?" Henry followed up. "A charmed one would reflect all spells."

"One, maybe two, and I'm pretty sure they'll shatter badly when that happens," Lenny replied, stopping in his tracks as his glance fell upon Harry.

"I mean, with the Captain and that thing I heard you did to make him charge up the ship's reservoir, doing the same to shields would make them kind of useful," he continued. "Can you do that to the shields?"

Harry had to exchange a glance with Hermione. He would not know.

"We could," Hermione admitted. "I just don't know if we should."

"Why?"

"It takes a lot out of him. The ship, fighting, and then these shields on top? Even though he doesn't seem to be aware of it, he's still a mere mortal," Hermione explained her point. Harry stoically ignored the insult and the twins' snickering.

Lenny mustered the girl and her boyfriend for a moment, nodding in consent. "I certainly see the why, now. I doubt they would be a lot of help without, though. Not completely useless – if they get enough time to charge, they might block a few spells, as long as nobody starts throwing serious magic around, methinks."

"You could use them as second line of defence, then?" Fred proposed. "Block with your wand, first, but use the shield to block things you did not catch that way? Like bullets?"

"Why not try and make a handful of them, and see how they work out?" Henry proposed. "No use in trading suspicions and theories unless we have test data, right?"

"Expenses paid, of course," Harry added, adding another exclamation mark to his mental list item to visit the bank, soon.

"That's the words I love to hear, my friend," Lenny laughed out loud. "Well, any ideas? I think round shields, two or three feet in diameter would be the most practical on board, like these Rondello shields the Spanish used to have. Solid metal, so even if the spells fail, they'll still block blades nicely. Might even still hold up against hits by pistols if the angle is right."

"Good, how do we continue from here on?" Henry tried to consolidate the morning's work

"Lenny can work on making your wand, and the shields," Hermione started off.

"And we will clean up our laboratory, so we can produce some of the stuff we need for the final product," Fred stated.

"Once you delivered the recipe," George remarked, looking at Henry.

"Will do, won't take an hour, and I'll be there," was the reply.

The twins exchanged a look and a silent conversation. "Take your time, we need at least two hours to clean up," George replied.

Fred nodded energetically. "We do not want to create explosives that go off at the slightest touch on anything but a sparkling clean workbench."

Hermione and Harry, both, were in full agreement. Snape did not teach much, but he did stress that contaminations cause explosions. Usually only after someone blew up a cauldron, but that was Snape for you.

"Glad you guys are sensible about that," Hermione commented with a patronizing tone. She was quite surprised that Fred and George gave her an annoyed look.

"Hermione, we might be irresponsible idiots," George chided.

"But we aren't suicidal irresponsible idiots," Fred completed the statement.

"Being maimed,"

"- or dead"

"would make life a lot less fun."

Hermione mumbled an apology, realizing that she had once again made the mistake to underestimate them due to their antics.

"Can I do anything to help?" Harry asked, trying to gloss over the awkward situation.

Hermione "No, you are to rest a few more days. We might need you for enchantments, later, but right now, you need to get your full strength back. You could study your Animagus diagrams a bit more, though. You don't want to do the potion, again, don't you?"

Harry recoiled in disgust at the mention. "Anything but. I don't think I could. The thought of mandrake alone makes me want to puke."

 **ooOOoo**

"Ah, my eager students are hard at work, I see," Remus' loud voice made Harry jump up from the pile of books and paper on the table he had fallen asleep upon, and adding a binder of his own.

"Of course we..." Hermione answered, before looking up from her book and noticing the traitorous marks the nap had left on Harry's face. "I am", she corrected herself. "But to be fair, he should be resting, anyway, and I'm pretty sure he did study quite a bit before falling asleep."

"This spell is the most complicated I've ever seen," Harry countered. Do you really have to cast that every time you change? It looked so easy when Padfoot did it," Harry complained during an extended yawn.

"Yeah, one would never believe the old fleabag had it in him, right," Remus replied with a slight smile. "He almost botched that part. He didn't mind that your dad would succeed and he didn't – it took me telling him that I thought Peter would manage on first try to make him buckle down and study. He was like a possessed man during that week. I used to tease him that this was the reason he became a Grim instead of a normal dog," he reminisced, Harry almost glued to his lips as he soaked up another tale.

"His coping mechanism was to tease Peter to most likely having a useless form. He kept on and on about Peter turning into all sorts of pests, but rodents and bugs were the main predictions. Peter was kind of put off by that until James pointed out that a rat form would be fantastically useful for sneaking around Hogwarts," he added, absent-mindedly.

"But no, the spell is to prepare your body for the change, once you have taken the potion. The spell will allow you to change, and the potion will lock you to your form. You cast it once, and then drink the potion. Together, if the spell is cast correctly and the potion is done right, these two will allow you to transform by will alone. The only step left is to figure your form out," Remus completed his initial statement, ending the verbal detour.

"So the potion is to restrict me to one form?" Harry asked.

"It will strengthen your ties to your true form, which makes it easier to transform," Remus, albeit suspicious what Harry was hinting at, answered the question.

"But if I don't take the potion, I can change into whatever I want?" Harry asked, intrigued by the prospect he just came up with.

"You can do right away, that's called human-to-animal transfiguration," Remus replied in his teacher's voice he used when someone asked a question that deserved a deeper excurse into the topic. "You should know that spell, already, and it's the middle part of the incantation, as well."

"Any animal I want? Sounds great! Why did I bother with that stupid potion, then? This is so much better," Harry kept admiring his clever plan. Remus left him basking in the light for a bit longer, before mentioning the worm in that particular apple.

"As long as you got somebody nearby to turn you back, sure. Provided they can catch you."

That comment hit Harry unexpected, and he needed a few tries and mental resets to actually formalize his inquiry. "What? Why?" He blurted.

"When you transfigure yourself into an animal, you can't turn yourself back, and this version of the spell you know does not have a timing component to make you turn back automatically. You might be stuck for a long time, given your power. But either way, the normal or the timed version, you won't have a lot fun in that form, for you aren't in complete control of your mental facilities, and what little you have will be quickly eroding," Remus pointed out the fly in the ointment, while Hermione was frantically flipping through a book, finally settling on a page and skimming it.

"One of the main functions of the potion is preserving your mental stability and allowing you to change back at will. A kind of alchemistic imbued enchantment allowing you to trigger a limited bit of wandless magic, a specialized finite spell, so to speak. That's why you needed to soak that Mandrake leaf with your essence, to personalize it," she summed the page up. "Honestly, you should have read this yourself, already."

"I don't retain stuff like you do," Harry grumbled. "But now that you mentioned it, I do remember it as well."

"But since I can do wandless magic, wouldn't I be able to do this on my own?" He asked Remus.

"You are once more forgetting the mental instability part. You pretty much are left with seconds until you are distracted by shiny things and maybe half a minute till you are completely overwhelmed by instinct. Ask Ginny about her fish adventure, if you dare," Remus retorted, grinning wide when Harry cringed at the mention of that topic. Ginny refused to speak about this in more than general terms. Harry knew that Hermione knew a lot more, and she outright refused to tell him, so he did the clever thing and assumed the worst, and backed off.

"Bugger. I mean, being a stag is nice and all,..." Harry began, trailing off. "You sure you can only change into a certain animal?" He asked his mentor.

"There are prerequisites, Harry. You need to have a deep personal affinity to the form. The Animagus spell is a specialized transfiguration spell that tries to seek your form and bring it out. The potion strengthens that bond. A lot of people fail because they are convinced they can just pick and choose a form they don't really connect to, and realize that they were wrong when the spend a lot of effort to make it materialize. Some fail because they don't have enough power to make the change happen. The latter certainly won't be a problem for either of you. Learning to cast a Patronus is a long-proven way to check if you have the necessary power and find a potential animal you can relate to. In your case, that's a stag, while Hermione shows a strong affection for beavers." Remus finished that monologue with a Sirius-like saucy grin aimed at the girl.

"Otters!" Hermione protested, while Harry chose to hide his face in his hands, suppressing the groan.

"That was low, you know?" He chided the older man.

"Tradition. Hermione is a big girl, and makes even worse jokes, herself. She can take it. You don't want to know what jokes flew around when we were doing that in school. Sirius being a dog, James being horny, and Peter with his tail," Remus replied with a sigh of reminiscence. "Those were better times, before Peter had turned into a rat, metaphorically. Still, Sirius made us swear an oath on your crib that we would tease you and all junior Marauders you would bring along just as badly. Lilly overheard, and was furious, but not nearly as bad as when she found out that James had sworn the same, earlier," he recounted.

He and Harry exchanged a knowing smile over that Sirius moment, while Hermione reached out to squeeze Harry's hand, pushing some papers aside as she did so.

Remus reacted quickly, preventing few of them sliding off the table. "Careful, we need those."

Hermione took a brief look at the papers in question, realizing they were the ones Remus had brought in. "What are they? Looks like lists to me."

"They are. Inventories, or better, what we are missing. Pretty much a shopping list," Remus replied.

"Quite a long one," Harry remarked, reaching out to pick at the papers, leafing through them.

"Indeed," Remus agreed. "You name it, we lack it. That's why Cobbs is planning to take the Pathfinder out for a supply run. She's pretty much undamaged, and much less conspicuous than the Revenge. I know you are still quite beat up, but since the purse is yours, I think you should go with them. Knowing where to shop for stuff and the guys selling won't hurt, either."

"I don't know," Harry replied, looking at his spell book and the copied spell diagrams. "Tough choice," he said, pensive, before smiling at Remus. "When do we leave?"

"In a couple of days. More than enough time for you to finish your studies and take the potion," Remus told his protegé with a smirk, enjoying the pained moan he got in reply.

Hermione was all but bouncing in her seat at the prospect. Harry gifted her with some less than amiable glances upon that behaviour.

"Don't worry, Harry, you should have an advantage here," Remus tried to lift Harry's spirits a bit. "More powerful wizards usually have an easier time discovering their form."

"Technically, Hermione is more powerful, I just have more stamina," Harry retorted.

"Didn't look to me like that during morning run, though," Remus joked. Hermione shot Harry an almost feral grin to add some extra humiliation.

"Is this how it's going to be? Full moon making you antsy, already?" Harry huffed in reply, pulling his papers up and hiding behind them, pretending to read.

"Pretty much," Remus replied with a broad grin. "But remember, this moon is your big one, too. I won't be present for your big performance, but Tonks will be, and you know how she can be if she thinks people don't give their best," he replied. He waited long enough for Harry to finish the involuntary shiver, and Hermione to savour her smirk of superiority, before adding, "And Margret has promised to watch attentively to provide good memories of your faces when you down your potions, for us to review."

Harry couldn't decide if Hermione's sudden change of expression was making him feel better about what loomed two days ahead of him.

 ** _* The beach below Black Manor, during full moon *_**

"Bleargh!", followed by a grimace and a coughing fit, was a perfectly fine reaction to the potion, felt Harry, watching Hermione perform it.

He had already gone through this a few seconds earlier, and had to admit that Hermione got him beat in the 'I can deal with it' part of this contest. He had chosen to walk it off, literally, enduring the giggles of the others watching him as he stiffly stumbled around on the beach, trying to keep the potion that mostly consisted and tasted of his phlegm and Mandrake, along with some other ingredients he did not want to dwell upon, for his stomach's sake. He could still feel the potion in it, rolling about like an undulating ball of molten lead. He had to constantly fight the urge to burp

Hermione simply pulled a plastic bottle containing some neon blue liquid , unscrewed the cap, took a sip, rinsed, and spat.

"Mouthwash? Clever girl," Tonks laughed out loud, briefly smirking in Harry's direction.

Harry stepped forward, and snatched the bottle from her hands, using it to get rid of the after taste, himself. For now, at least, as the potion in his belly did not feel like it wanted to remain.

"You could have told me about that before you let me go first, couldn't you?" He voiced his displeasure.

"Hmm, I forgot?" She replied with a faux innocent smile. His squinted eyes told her that her suffering for that insolence would be epic, which made her smile only brighter. Giving her up as a lost case, he turned back to the others, regretting it instantly. They had been told to be quiet to not disturb them, but they were only keeping that promise on paper.

Margret and Henry were desperately biting down on their lips to keep composure. The three red-headed menaces that had chosen to attend - "nothing could make me miss watching you two chugging a goblet of spit", Fred had argumented – were hardly better.

Fred was leaning hard on his sister, his shoulders spasming as he hid his face in her hair. Ginny, herself, had tears in her eyes, hiccuping as she clung to him. George had his eyes closed and face scrunched up, his fingers digging into the sign with the number nine on it. Fred had dropped his, so no idea what he would vote. They had given him only a seven, and Harry was not sure whether to be peeved about it or not.

"Well, well," Tonks said happily. "You seem to have no allergic reaction to it, neither, so there is no need for that, anymore," she said as she demonstratively poured a flask onto the ground.

"Allergic reaction?" Hermione squeaked, while Harry hotly demanded to know what that bottle was.

"That was the antidote, and if you had an reaction, you'd already have started projectile puking your guts out, and would be for hours," Tonks replied, evenly. George gave up and sat down, shaking in silent bouts of laughter.

Margret was looking worried, while Henry was frowning in disgust as he inquired for more details. "Ugh, that bad? I mean, that hardly sounds possible."

"Think of it as ricinus oil on steroids, and with the magic stored in it, it is. You'll be able to puke bucketfuls, for up to half a day," Tonks explained. Hermione's face lost a couple shades of tan while digesting the news, while Harry cringed, profoundly. He still remembered that one time Dudley forced him to drink that stuff, vividly. The only time Petunia had stopped Dudley from harassing Harry further and told him off for it. Still, she made Harry clean up the mess. Right then, while he was still getting sick, of course. Thankfully, there hadn't been no magic refilling his stomach involved, and the mop bucket was big.

"You two better start casting, or you will get that reaction, anyway," Tonks spoke up, again, after a few moments of letting the message sink in. "Oh, and if you bugger up the spell, you will, too," she added.

The reactions to this were split. The Grangers and Harry were horrified, while the Weasleys stopped laughing and watched the proceedings with glee and anticipation. The twins looked at Tonks in pure adoration, ready to prostrate themselves at her feet.

"And you dumped the antidote? Are you mad?" Harry wound up, quickly. Tonks was unfazed as she stared him down.

"Shut up. You had a month to prepare a few sentences, others learn a full play by heart in that kind of time. If you mess up, you deserve it. And if you fail, I've already have Mandrake on me so we can start the potion right over, again. You are playing with the big boys, so stop whining like little children. Playtime is over. Now, incant!"

Hermione did not need to be told twice, and reached for her wand, looking at Harry expectantly with it in a ready position. It took Harry a moment to realize she was waiting for him, offering to do it together, assisting him. With a smile of gratitude, he reached for his own wand, and on her count of three, he joined her in the incantation.

It only took about a minute to recite the spell, and Harry was pretty sure that only her guidance had prevented him from misspelling something, but finally, he was pronouncing the last word.

There was a flash of light, pain, and then darkness.

Margret hat watched the two closely and with growing concern as they had recited the Latin words of the spell, together. Soon, she could feel a strange static in the air and a hint of Saint Elmo's fire seemed to build up around the two as they unleashed their power, word by word.

As soon as the last word was spoken, all this pent up energy seemed to collapse inward, and their forms briefly flashed in a bright light, their backs arched as both screamed in a way she had never heard a human produce before. Henry would tell her later that she had cried out the exact same way when they had pulled Hermione from her loins so many years ago.

When the light disappeared, Harry and Hermione collapsed where they stood, and both of them rushed forward to care for their loved ones, only to find themselves frozen in mid step. The Weasley contingent froze on their own accord, knowing that kind of drill too well, having grown up as Wizards, and under Molly, no less.

"Sorry, but you shouldn't be touching them right now. This is absolutely normal, their bodies are currently merging with the potion, and this is less than enjoyable, so to speak," Tonks told them as she stepped into their field of view. When the screaming stopped and Harry and Hermione collapsed like dancers with their strings cut, Tonks waited a few more moments before cancelling her hold over the Grangers.

"Don't you ever dare..." Margret hissed at her, not able to finish her sentence as Tonks cut her off.

"To save your life, again? Sorry, no can do, these two are paying me to do the exact opposite," she said with a smirk, thumbing at the two crumpled forms behind them. When she saw that her rebuke had taken hold, she pre-emptively answered the questions she expected.

"Touching them might have caused a accidental magic discharge. Being flung away like a rag doll would have been one of the least lethal outcomes. They are ok, and will come around in a few minutes or so. It is now safe to touch them, as none of them has transformed, spontaneously, yet."

"Ok, thank you, I guess," Henry stammered briefly before rushing after his wife.

"You're welcome," Tonks tweeted with a smile, creating two beach lounges for them to transfer the kids onto.

"Why didn't we get them these right away? And why didn't you tell them?" Margret complained, still not willing to absolve Tonks from blame after having seen and heard her daughter suffer like this.

"Point one, they need to stand, and objects nearby can become shrapnel. Second, indeed, by the way, have I mentioned that this very complex spell you need to perform will cause you more pain than you have ever experienced or imagined when done right. Certainly motivating," Tonks finished with a smirk.

"You mean, less that pouring out the only cure and then telling someone they'll puke their guts out if they fail to recite a text right on their first try?" Margret snapped back, fussing helplessly around over her daughter, and settling for stroking her cheek in order to at least feel like doing something.

"Oh yes, right!" Tonks blurted suddenly, before calling for Dobby.

"Here is the potions youse have asked for," the little creature spoke up after suddenly blinking into existence. "Them be alright?" He added, his ears drooping.

"They are, and with these potions they will be fine in a spiffy," Tonks replied as she took the offered flasks. "Oh, and can you please return these to the cold box in the lab, maybe we'll need them later, if these misfits want a turn," she said with a smirk at the Weasleys, handing two vials over. Dobby immediately popped away with them.

"I'll pass," Ginny immediately shot back. She had seen enough, and did not remember her stint as a fish too fondly.

"Wait a minute! Didn't you pour that away, earlier?" Fred questioned, recognizing the potion by colour.

Tonks smirked feral in reply. "I poured one away to motivate them. But as the great Moody says, if you feel you need to carry an antidote to something, then there is no excuse to not carry an extra dose, as well."

"What a trusting lad," Henry commented, faking a chipper tone to his voice.

"He's been through the war, took down a lot of Death Eaters, and came out alive. Well, most parts of him. About a third of him is missing, I presume, and his trust is one of these parts. Not that I disagree, he's had more assassination attempts on him per week than I care to count, and that for years, while still going out on missions, too. He's supposed to be a nightmare to work with, but he almost always got his team back home in force. Not many can say that. After the war ended, and most of his marks were set free in exchange for bribes, he retired in protest. Ever since, he's spending his time dodging attempts on his life, all day, of which most are imagined, they say. Especially Malfoy is vocal about Moody being mad whenever his own arrest and absolution of all charges is brought up. I personally think they occasionally spring a real attempt on him, just out of habit, and to see him slipping even deeper into paranoia. Fuckers!" Tonks explained, spitting the final expletive out.

Henry only barely listened to her tangent, staying on topic. "Whatever. So you scared them, even though you still had the potion? What kind of teaching method is that? I thought you were in the police, not the army!"

"Yes, that's more like something Snape would do, to be honest," Ginny agreed.

"Actually, knowing that git far too well," Fred interrupted.

"We're pretty sure he would really pour out all of it," George completed the sentence.

"Yeah, sounds like something the mop head would do," Tonks agreed, sitting down at the edge of Harry's lounger. "It was Remus' idea, actually. These two function much better under pressure, kind of. Hermione is a genius, but she has a confidence problem. She'll always be perfectly prepared, but never sure about it. Give her too much time to fuss and she drives herself bonkers with doubt. Being friendly and supportive is only making it worse. A no-nonsense approach and praise after the fact seems to work for her."

"And Harry? Merlin help, I love the boy – like a little brother, ok – but he's the biggest slacker, right after your brother, I swear," she said with a grin at the Weasleys. "He could be as good as Hermione, if he'd just apply himself. But he is almost trained to never apply himself to a task that he doesn't have to. Give him the easiest of homework? He'll never finish it on his own. But give him an impossible task that he is forced into, and he will rise to it. Flying brooms professional without any lessons? No biggie. Sword fighting a basilisk? Done. Remus tells him that the Patronus is too hard for most adult wizards? He gets a corporeal one in like three tries. Or Snape – he's been trying to sabotage and fail Harry for years, and Harry is still in the top third of the class, pretty much just to spite him," she ranted, her hair wildly circling through the visible spectrum and lengths, missing the rush of emotions on the face of the Grangers who were quietly reassessing a few opinions about her.

"Remus told me to try that in our lessons, and wow! Being a bitch during fencing training has done wonders! Also, pretty much the only way to get him to stop this lone wolf hero thing he does. He has no care for his own well-being or life. None at all. Tell him he almost killed himself, being the stupid hero instead of a teamplayer, he'll shrug it off. But tell him that someone else got hurt because he fucked up his role in the team – he'll never do that mistake again," Tonks trailed off, shaking her head. She briefly paused when a long black strand of hair fell into her field of view. After a brief glance of confusion morphing into comprehension, her hair turned back into a short bob in bubblegum pink.

"Anyhoo. Too bad they did not transform, spontaneously. I almost expected at least Harry to do so, if only to spite the world that thinks this Animagus thingy is hard to do. Would have made things easier," she remarked with a glance at the still human Harry and Hermione, changing the topic.

"I thought you had to find your form, later? Hermione said as much," Henry asked, looking up from his daughter's side.

"There is a slight chance, and with Hermione being powerful, and Harry being Harry, we considered it being a thing we should account for."

"Oh! That's why we are down here?" George spoke up when he understood.

Tonks nodded. "It's not for the scenery alone, yes."

Ginny lacked the patience for the innuendo. "Is there an explanation that includes complete sentences, or do we all need to guess?"

"While we assume the forms these two will have, they could be anything. And in case they were maritime, she wanted to have water nearby," George explained.

"And if they were a sweet water species?" Henry asked.

"That, I can conjure," Tonks replied, "But salt water is quite tricky to do, and since we don't lack it, why not be prepared? I'd simply levitate them in, and then force them back to human form when it is safe to do so."

Ginny felt that she needed to contribute her experience to this topic. "What if they swim off?"

"I'll bind them, first, of course," Tonks replied with a sigh. "If they turn, their animal side might compel them to flee or attack while they are less than lucid. One petrificus, a bit of rope, problem solved," she said with a smile.

Fred laughed out loud. "I agree that a stag can be horrifying, but something as tiny and cute as an otter mauling you? Too funny."

"What if she goes straight for the bollocks?" Ginny tweeted, smiling innocently. "Small, cute creatures have a tendency to do that when annoyed," she added, her eyes narrowing.

"Anyway," Tonks stepped into that argument. "I've noticed Hermione stirring, which means that Harry is up for a while, already, and just playing dead, isn't it so?"

"Playing and wishing he was," Harry spoke, tensely pressing the words out, slowly. Hermione was coming around about that time, moaning hoarsely as she curled up in pain. "That was fun, can we not do it again, please?" He joked weakly.

Tonks grinned as she offered him one of the flasks. "Here you are."

Harry took one look at it and shook his head. "Give it to Hermione, I'm fine," he replied through gritted teeth, sitting up slowly as if to demonstrate it.

"Stop being a hero, I've got one for her, too, once she's lucid enough to drink it," Tonks replied, shoving it into his hands.

"Then. Give. It. Now," Hermione growled, right on cue, startling Tonks. "Tougher than she looks," Tonks commented as she obliged, watching Hermione chugging the offered flask and deflate within moments as the painkiller did its job.

"Sooo much better," Hermione sighed in relief, dozing off with a smile at her mother softly caressing her cheek.

Satisfied that she was fine, Harry also took a swig from his bottle, and handed the rest back to Tonks, who eyed him warily.

"What do they make kids out of, these days?" She joked, shaking her head.

"Dunno about Hermione, we do have a theory about Harry's balls, though," one of the twins quipped from behind the group. The muted groan told Harry that Ginny's justice had been applicated swiftly, as usual. "Thanks, Gin," he quipped.

"Are you really alright?" Three voices asked, staggered between Henry, Ginny, and Margret.

"I've had worse," Harry replied, fighting gravity to stand up, accepting a helpful hand from Tonks and Henry when they were offered.

"Really? I've been told that most people all but cry for mommy after that potion. The description of this part is what makes most people forgo the attempt,"Tonks spoke up.

"How many times have those been under the Cruciatus? By Voldy or Bella?" Harry quipped with a lopsided smirk, lower lip trembling, still, as he heard the Weasleys gasp, out of habit, when those names where mentioned.

"I keep forgetting," Tonks apologized. "Not something you want to remember. Anyway, sure you don't need more? You still look like you could."

"No. I'm kind of fine, and I know this potion. It makes my stomach queasy for a couple of days if I take too much, and I don't want to be puking all the way on our shopping tour tomorrow," Harry replied with something resembling a boyish smile.

 **ooOOoo**

 **AN:**

Sorry for the long delay, but I was fighting for weeks to accept my uploads.

Apart from my standard life trouble. I thought that once the kid was here, and some time down the river, things would normalize.

Whom was I kidding? :D

Anyway. Rumours about this stories' demise are premature.

There is more to come, already written.

Enjoy.


	6. Pathfinding

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

 **In enemy waters**

By DerLaCroix

 **Chapter 6 – Pathfinding**

"Hermione? You in here?" Ginny's voice rang out through the barely open door. Before the girl with the matching name had a chance to reply, Ginny had stuck her head into the room and voiced her triumph.

"Was this ever in question?" Margret quipped from behind her novel. A remarkably fireproof one, since her daughter was currently trying to set her ablaze with a death glare.

"The location, not so much," the petite redhead quipped back, making her way to the table. "Human shape or furry creature, quite a lot," she said as she dropped into a chair like a sack of flour, piquing Hermione's curiosity, and Crookshanks' ire as she jostled the seat he was sleeping in in the process.

Ignoring the evil eye from the miniature tiger next to her, Ginny slumped down and yawned, figuratively melting into the seat.

"Rough night?" Hermione teased.

"You try taking it up with a bunch of sailors, and see if you feel any better," Ginny replied without thinking.

"Merlin's beard! Can't you keep your mind above the waistline, just once!" She complained when Hermione had turned crimson for a moment and then had laughed out loud.

Ginny was looking for a sympathetic ally across the table, but just found proof that mothers and daughters are often quite alike. "I would complain to you about your daughter, but you are just as bad," Ginny continued ranting at a different target. Margret didn't reply, she was too busy biting down on her lips to prevent herself from laughing as well.

"If it wasn't for the hangover potion I need you to make, I'd kill you both, right now," Ginny sighed and rested her face on the cool table top.

"Rum?" Margret asked empathetically, while Hermione called Dobby to place the order.

"Yeah. 'To get started'. Then they switched us to 'something stronger'," Ginny replied into the table top, wincing when Dobby popped back in. "Dunno how, but somehow I was the only one not dancing topless on the table at some point of the evening."

"Two brothers playing guardian angels?" Hermione teased, handing the vial over for her friend to down it in one gulp, like she most likely took the shots last night.

"Sooo much better," Ginny sighed in relief when the potion took hold.

"And just so you know, they are not brothers, and I don't think their intentions can be described as 'angelic' - at least in most religions I know about," she added with an mischievous smirk, enjoying the brief flicker of confusion hushing over Hermione's face until realization hat set in. "But yes, they made sure that things did not get too far out of hand," Ginny continued once she saw that Hermione was on track with the situation.

"That explains why you didn't go to... them... for the potion," Hermione quipped with a knowing smirk.

"I figured I would face less questioning," Ginny shot back. "My estimation still seems to hold true, but not by much."

"Pish-posh, you were talking about their intentions – carry on," Margret prodded, casually tossing her novel aside, earning herself a bemused look from her daughter, and a perplexed from the girl they had pretty much adopted, by now.

"I think their intentions are obvious, and there isn't much else to it, so you better stick to the books," Ginny commented.

"I've read each and every novel I had at least thrice by now. I can pretty much give you an index and recap to all romantic or naughty scenes for each by memory," Margret ranted, given the opportunity." I'd really like some new material, so, give me that juicy gossip, now!"

"Sorry, but I did not come here to talk about my love life, potential, or lack of," Ginny replied.

"Well, why did you come here, then? No matter what, it can't be less interesting than a fourth reread of 'My wild, untamed heart'," Margret kept drilling.

"Actually, besides me really needing that potion, I was looking for Harry, and then found out he went on a shopping trip, so I went to look for Hermione."

"Glad to function as your secondary choice of conversational partner. How may I serve you?" Hermione quipped, a mocking frown on her face.

Ginny's voice took a distinctively whiny quality as she started recounting her plight. "It's about my ship, or pile of firewood, for that is pretty much what it is, right now - I had a talk to the guys trying to fix it, and they say that the masts can't be replaced. Something about bow and stern damage, needing to shore up keel, mast shoe, stability, leverage – they had quite a list of explanations, but all boils down to they can't fix it. Seems that if they tried to, they'd have to fix the keel and so many things that it would not be possible in a wharf their size."

"Didn't they offer any solution?" Margret asked.

"Not really," Ginny replied. "Didn't really ask, though. I don't really know that much about boat design, they could tell me anything."

"Want me to go and talk to him?" Margret offered her help. The reception to her offer was not quite as enthusiastic as she would have liked.

"Take that eyebrow down, right this instant, young lady," Margret chided Ginny. "I'll have you know that not only was I born and raised on an island, I'm also not just a housewife and mother only serving to fill in the blanks in other people's lives. I may not be of much use here without magic, and have a job that is completely unnecessary here due to the same reason, but I am a well-educated person with interests and a life. And one of the things I know a thing or two about is boats. Why did you think we got ourselves a boat – we were bored, and we both loved sailing in our youth. I have forgotten more about boats and sailing than you know!"

"Then you still know all about it, since I pretty much know nothing," Ginny replied with a disarming smile. "And I'd be happy if you'd be willing to translate for me and give me an opinion."

"Well, let's get going, then. Chop-chop!" Margret commanded, raising from her seat.

"Shouldn't we take dad, as well?" Hermione spoke up.

"He's busy doing the research, and doesn't know more than I do. He is better at sailing, but that doesn't apply. So I say let him be, and we'll solve the issue," Margret challenged her daughter to contradict her.

"Yay! Who needs men, anyway," Ginny cheered glumly, as she rose from her seat.

Hermione bit down on any comment on her personal view on male usefulness as she relented and joined the others for the excursion.

OoOOoo

"Oh? Back again?" The man spoke up as he saw them filtering into his office, Ginny in lead. He hastily jumped to his feet when Hermione and her mother followed her in. "Good day, M'Lady! And Madam Granger! A good day to you, as well."

"And a good day to you, Mr. Lofter," Margret approached him and extended her hand, taking initiative in the talk.

"I told you it's William, Madam Granger," he replied, shaking her hand vigorously with both hands. "Good to see you again and in good health. Such a shame what happened, a shame. What leads you here? You want to have a new _Gretty_ ?"

"Not today, William. I hope we are not interrupting your work too much," Margret spoke, waving her hand towards the papers on the desk, "but Miss Weasley notified us of the problems with the rebuild, and we wanted to inquire about the nature. Would you, perchance, be willing to lead us around and point out the problems to us?"

"Of course I will – this will be still here, later. Trust me, it will..." he said, inclining his head towards the lists and calculations, sighing in an exaggerated fashion. "But be warned, it's not pretty. We just got it up the beach full, this morning, and it's bad," he said, leading them out through the door and towards the leaning hull of the plucked _Raven_ a bit off the site, where a few men were currently manhandling some beams, bending them over some rig. They were too focussed on their work to even notice them.

"That was a lot of work getting it up here, wasn't it?" Margret commented as she took the sight in. "Oh my... She looks really beat up," was her next comment, once she done so.

"It was indeed a chore, Madam. It's been a while that we had to beach something that size. The _Pathfinder_ is easer to handle. But beat up is not even starting to describe it," William replied as he steered them towards a rickety looking ladder leaned against the leaning hull and started climbing.

Margret followed him up that ladder with nary a pause, just to lean her parasol against the hull to have both hands free. William and all his men had a stone or more on her, so she had no doubt it would hold her, despite the look.

William awaited her on the deck, extending a hand to her, and then to the girls as they followed.

"What is the more pressing concern, then? The frames?" she asked, trying to keep her balance on the askew floor.

"A good third of them is damaged or broken, that is part of the problem", William replied. "If you follow me down inside, I'll show you the real problem, it's easier shown than explained."

Stepping into the darkness of the hull, they were surprised that it wasn't as dark as expected. The fact that they could see really rammed the scope of the damage home. The sides were actually not that bad. Apart from the damage around the gun ports, it was mostly fine. The stern and bow, though, were pretty much gone, with only a few, chewed up timbers holding them together, letting light stream into the hull.

A brief shiver ran down Margret's spine when she remembered that she had been on board while all of these holes were punched.

"Yes, those were our exact words when we cleared away the wreckage," William commented on their silence. "Good thing we started clearing those sections, first. The remnants of the sides and the masts are pretty much all that is keeping this thing from collapsing onto itself."

"It looks even worse than what I imagined when you told me," Ginny spoke up, here eyes wide in disbelief. Hermione was still speechlessly taking the damage in.

"That's why I'm showing you this, now. It's hard to explain. We'd need to rebuild bow and stern, and in order to do that, we'd need to deplete the reservoir. But then, the whole thing would sag and split apart under it's own weight, unless we stiffen it, somehow. In a full wharf, you'd use cranes to support the deck and brace the sides against the dry dock walls, but we don't have that," William explained, pointing out some of the cracked, chipped or severed beams forming the hull.

"The only way to do it here would be to use the remains of both masts as support pillars, and brace everything to them, and then use runes and spells to fuse them with the keel and the frames."

"So you're proposing to reinforce it from the inside instead of from the outside?" Hermione inquired. "That would solve the issue, and you could rebuild the hull, right?

"Yes, but that also means we can't remove them, ever. The only spell that works on the boat while the reservoir is active is one to shore up the keel by fusing properly prepared and inscribed pieces of wood to it. The parts would become an integral part of the reservoir. After that, removing them is impossible, the keel would shatter if we do that."

This did not quite make sense to Margret, though. "The keel would shatter? Why? You're only cutting some parts off it. When depleted, it's only a piece of wood, right?"

"An enchanted piece of wood," William reminded her. "Drawback of the method – the ships are extremely durable while the reservoir is protecting it, and a normal boat once it is depleted. But if the keel gets any significant damage, it shatters like a piece of glass when the enchantment collapses."

Hermione turned to Ginny at that point, asking the question that popped up in her mind. "That's how you sank the ship?"

Ginny was not looking happy when mentally revisiting that time. "Yep. Brian brought it up and I went along with it. Shattering is not quite the word I'd use, though. Went off like a bomb!"

"Good thing I only painted runes on it, instead of carving them!" Hermione remarked.

"If it were down, you actually could, M'Lady. A couple of cuts won't harm it," William remarked.

"A couple of hits with cutlasses do, though," Ginny remarked. Margret briefly patted her back, supportively, before taking up the conversation, again.

"So you can't set up new masts? There's enough space here, isn't it?"

"To be honest, I doubt it, Madam," William replied, his embarrassment showing as he awkwardly scratched his neck. "Just not enough space to make new partners and still have the deck somehow sound. I guess we could set up a new one through where the cargo grates are, amidships. On that, we could rig a lateen, or maybe a full rig and a spanker, and then a jib or two."

Ginny perked up, noticeably, when she heard that. "So it can be fixed?"

"I wouldn't call it fixed, Miss, er... Captain Weasley," William hastily corrected himself, but did not look pleased with the explanation he had to provide. "She'll be down a good third or more of her sail area. Her fast days are over, sadly. Hauling cargo might be fine, still, so she'll certainly pay for the cost if you sell her off. Maybe even a profit..."

ooOOoo

"There you are!" Henry welcomed them as they entered the Villa. "Where have you been?"

"At the wharf, having a look at the Raven", Margret replied, placing her parasol into the stand and removing her scarf. "Is there a problem with that?" She asked, pointedly.

Years of experience made Henry quickly realise the trouble he had stumbled into. "No, of course not!Why?" he asked, trying to sound calm and collected.

"Just so," Margret replied in a chipper voice, smiling at him as she crossed the room to give him a noisy peck on the cheek. "Done with your project?"

Henry shook his head. "Far from. But I think I have a new one."

"Is that so?" Hermione voiced her curiosity as she took a seat. Ginny followed her example only a few moments later. The rest of her question had to wait until they had relieved Winky of the drinks she was handing out.

"Don't you think we have enough of those, already?" she asked after properly rehydrating.

"Indeed – if we don't watch out, we end up like you last year – going crazy with the workload and needing a time-turner to manage," Ginny remarked, still nursing her fruit juice.

"That would be kind of handy," Henry replied. "We really could need some extra time, right now, couldn't we?"

Hermione frowned in reply. "Not worth the hassle. Nearly drove me nuts. Counting classes, homework, and extra study time, I was doing four or five extra hours each day, minimum, sometimes more. The lack of sleep was brutal."

"Oh yes," Ginny harrumphed. "You really were something, back then. Crankiest bitch in the tower, and we had Lavender to live up to."

"Why didn't you take extra naps?" Margret interrupted Hermione's attempt to glare holes through Ginny.

"What? Naps?" She rounded on her mother. "Didn't you listen? I was already lacking time for my studies. How should I have napped with that schedule?"

"You had a time machine, darling. You could have gone back a couple hours and taken a nap, right?" Margret clarified, grace- and mercifully ignoring her daughter's tone. Her smirk at her daughter's baffled expression was quite feral, though.

"Best be done at mealtime, I guess," her father added. "Leave for a loo brake after eating, go back and find a good spot for a nap. After waking up, go back far enough to allow yourself to slip back into the Hall after a plausible time away. Eat another helping, citing you now have space for more. Claim to have a nervous stomach due to stress if people question your behaviour, or occasionally leave a day out."

"Or sleep, twice," Ginny offered, joining in at the communal destruction derby this has become. "Set an early alarm spell, go back, slip into bed with yourself, and sleep some more."

"Or whatever you want to do to relieve stress," Margret muttered with a smirk that widened even more at her husband's pained groan when he caught up with what she meant. Ginny caught on even later, but her crimson blush was much more spectacular than Henry's.

"And that's where we are going to end the topic of how I am not able to adapt under pressure but to double down harder, and all related topics, OK?" Hermione commanded. "You were about to tell us about your new project, weren't you?"

"Yes, indeed," Henry replied as he took a long sip of his lemonade, relieved that they were changing topic. "And it is a sub-project. We can still portkey off the island, can we?"

"With the current restrictions, but yes, we can."

"Good. Are there any restrictions regarding to the United States, as well? It should be closer than Britain, so I guess it should be no range problem," he inquired.

"I guess not," Hermione replied. "I'm not quite sure about the rules for international portkeys, so we might need to ask about that, but technically - yes, it should be possible. Why?"

Henry was beaming all over his face. "Great! Can you do it? Or do we need to wake Remus? I'd hate to do that after change night."

"First, I'd not particularly want to use a portkey he'd make in his current state. Second, he can't. Remember, he ceded to Tonks when Harry wanted to bestow the ability to him," Hermione set him straight.

Henry frowned. "Well, let's try to wake her without disturbing him, then?"

"Won't work," Hermione replied with a smirk. "First, she's already awake, and second, she's unavailable."

"She went with Harry," Margret provided. "Wouldn't let Harry leave without a guard, and since there's no way Remus could handle open sea, right now, she went herself."

Henry slapped his forehead in anger at his forgetfulness. "Crap. So we need to wait till they are back? Bugger. When are they expected to be? The evening, right?"

"Yes, mid-afternoon till evening," Hermione confirmed. "Tonks wouldn't let him leave on his trip without a guard, and she did not think that me joining him would make the security situation any better. But we need the supplies, Harry needs to learn how these trades are made, and also more practice on open water navigation. And since Remus is in no condition to stomach open sea, right after his change night, her choice fell on herself. But once more -why do you want to go there, in the first place?"

"I want to get some reference material. There are so many gun shops there, we should be able to get something that we can tell Lenny to copy."

Ginny furrowed her brow in thought, voicing her problem with that statement. "I don't think I can follow you – he already has guns he could copy. Why would having more help?"

Henry seemed confused for a moment. "Oh – right! I should have been more precise. Hermione, remember when I told Lenny that we are trying to skip a couple of centuries in technological evolution? This morning I realized how right I was, and how stupid. We don't need modern guns – we only need better than what we have. That why I want to pick up antique guns. Something from when cartridges were still using gunpowder and lead. We had the Snyder, the Henry, or even the Lee-Metford, if that's not too advanced, already – certainly there are similar things available in the colonies, right?"

"And those would be an improvement over what we have?" Ginny inquired.

Henry nodded, enthusiastically. "And then some – easily ten rounds per minute, while accurate at a few hundred yards. And the best – the twins say they have something that is quite similar to fulminate, and can be brewed."

"It can?" Hermione asked. "Hard to do? Exotic ingredients?"

"Dunno – they said they asked Neville about his school potions, and that they only had to tweak a bit to make something that explodes under impact," Henry replied with a shrug. "What kind of potions did you brew in that school, by the way?"

"We were brewing perfectly harmless things. Neville wasn't. He had an uncanny ability to always do the worst mistakes when under stress. Which stressed him out, you see," Hermione replied, smirking at her parents' joint flinch. "I remember you claiming that I could burn water in the kitchen. Neville could most likely blow it up with nothing but tap water."

"Nasty. Impressive, though," her father replied with a low whistle. "Anyway, they still struggle with conjuring a functional bullet that fits. But with with this potion, we are set on all necessary components to make real bullets. Using those guns, we can make actual cartridges here and just take them with us, and don't need to rely on something that might produce mostly duds. All we need can be bought or made locally. We don't need hundred bullets for an assault rifle, which they only spray and pray to hit somebody – give each man a few dozen shots, times, say forty or fifty men, and you will see hundreds of hits. More than enough for what we want. If we hire some people in town to make them, we can easily stockpile a lot."

"Sounds good," Hermione agreed. "But won't we have the same sizing problems?"

"Not nearly as bad," Henry defended his idea "Back then, production tolerances were much worse, and the mechanisms less finicky to compensate for that. A suboptimal round will be fired, just fine. And since we make real rounds, we can make a real sizing jig to squeeze them into proper shape."

"Why not make rounds for the good guns, then?" Ginny asked.

Henry took a deep breath before answering. "We'd never make anything close to the numbers we would need that way. Also, these guns would still jam when used on board. The guns I am talking about are simple. A lever pushes a big block of metal at the end of a barrel, and a hammer hitting a pin. Open – slide cartridge in – close – fire. There are only a couple of moving parts, and none are near as tight-fitting. The trigger is the most complicated, and our flintlocks use pretty much the same."

"We need to test, but I am confident," he finished.

"Good. So – tomorrow, shopping trip, everyone!" Margret exclaimed with a giggle. "It's been ages we've been shopping for clothes!"

"Harry will be sooo excited," Ginny joined her.

"Poor boy," Henry muttered.

ooOOoo

Said boy was currently rowing ashore with three other men also on the oars, and Captain Cobbs on the rudder pin. To be precise, there were only three men in total on the oars, as one of them was Tonks in disguise. Cobbs had carefully told her that it would be easier for them if they took Remus with them, as the sight of unknown men raised less suspicion than men travelling with a woman, and was in for the shock of his life as Tonks just smiled saucily at him while changing her shape right in front of him and the crew. It took half an hour of explanation and a round of grog to get the men pacified and ready to set sail. They didn't know yet that it would take Tonks a week to fully explain to all those who would ask her what she could do and that she couldn't teach it to them.

But that was a future problem. Right now, they were pulling as hard as they could to bring the small dinghy through the long cross swell, avoiding the scattered rocks that guarded that beach. Cobbs had dropped anchor in this bay because it was near the town, but had no line of sight to it. They manoeuvred the Pathfinder in, and launched the small boat to set a small group ashore, while their ship would submerge to stay hidden.

Landing the boat, they jumped out into the water and waded over onto the beach, where they used levitation spells to bring the dinghy ashore. They hid it between a couple of palm trees, disillusioning it, just to be sure. Their landing spot still didn't make good sense to Harry, since Kramer Gulf town was on the other side of the island, though.

"I might be asking a silly question, but why all this secrecy? Couldn't we just sail into the harbour and be done? They probably know that we are here and maybe even who we are, right? I mean, why this hassle of shrinking and carrying all provisions to this boat and then onto the Pathfinder?" Harry spoke his mind as they turned towards a well-worn path through the dense foliage. Frank, the sailor accompanying them, was already walking ahead, clearing away the few branches that dared hanging across.

"Some niceties have to be observed, Gov'nor," Cobbs replied amiably, fiddling around with his tobacco can, taking a bit of his chew. "You are right, they know, and we know that they know. But as long as we don't park the proof in their front yard, they can pretend they don't. Also, if a patrol happens to come along, it'd be better they don't spot us right away, and they don't care to go around the island to check."

"Plausible deniability, right?"Tonks inquired in the deep, booming voice she had adopted for this body, making the others jump a little. Harry knew that she was doing that on purpose, but said nothing.

"I couldn't spell it, but I think it's that word," Cobbs replied with a grin that lacked white, before spitting out some tobacco.

It took them about half an hour to reach the quite large village. One moment, they were in dense jungle, the next, they stood on an open plain, some fields of various crops stretching for a couple hundred yards, up to the buildings far beyond. On closer inspection, Harry noticed that it wasn't wheat or corn softly swaying in the wind, but various potion ingredients.

He had filed this away for later, when Tonks made him aware of some kids running into the town when they stepped out of the trees.

"'Ere's always someone out 'ere to notice strangers approaching, even if they dinna notice the ship coming. Fan out so they can count us, but walk naturally and dun pay them any attention, 'less you see them forming up, or taking aim at us," Cobbs commented, his tobacco giving him a noticeable slur.

"And if they do?" Tonks asked, eyeing the situation warily.

Cobbs chuckled, spitting another wad of scum. "We turn and run, lassie! Means they either are mad at us or a patrol is in town, commandeering them to fight us. We could talk ourselves out of the first, but it's not worth sticking around to find out which one it is."

Harry couldn't find a fault with that logic, but it didn't soothe his unease.

Fifteen not quite relaxed minutes later, they were in the town, approaching the harbour area, Cobbs greeting people left and right. The surprisingly few that were seen, anyway. Harry knew that the town had about three or four hundred inhabitants, but at first, he saw only a quarter that number, mostly young men, watching their every step. Only after a minute it dawned on him that these were people in, for lack of other terms, fighting age, and were armed. Harry just then realized he'd been among pirates for too long. He had just become used to everybody carrying weapons at all times. Only after a couple of salutations, people recognized Cobbs, and relaxed. A bit later, older people, women, and children emerged and filled up the town, again, the smallest children forming a gaggle following them at a safe distance, impersonating them. Cobbs made a point of occasionally spinning around and "Arr" at them, which sent them scampering for a moment, squealing, only to quickly reform, just like fish during a swim at the reef.

Arriving at the harbour, Cobbs made a point to sample the wares sold at market stands right next to the pier, buying a small trinket or two at each. Harry pretty quickly realized that this was how things were done, and bought a couple things, himself, namely a shawl Margret would like, a silver necklace with a Kraken talisman pendant he thought looked cool on him, and an only slightly dinged pull-out looking glass to present Henry with.

Having paid what Harry assumed to be their dues to the local people, Cobbs led them to the harbor warehouse, which wasn't quite as big as Harry would have expected. Entering, he found the shopkeeper and his wife arranging stuff on the counter, greeting Cobbs immediately as 'Captain'. Cobbs quickly handed over the list of stuff they needed – and could afford – mostly stuff they couldn't grow on the relatively small Black island, like sugar, rum, and linen. And potion ingredients. Lots of those. Taking a look around while bale after bale of merchandise was shrunk and stowed in a crate, Harry quickly realized that this island grew quite a lot of ingredients, but didn't cut much wood, other than others. That explained the size of the warehouse, but threw up other questions.

When they filed out of the store after paying a definitely above average amount for their merchandise, as Harry had come to expect, Harry found himself with just about a third of the gold he had taken with him. On Cobbs' command, they headed for the tavern, passing a building with a quite prominent red lantern out above the door. The colourful clad girls waving at them cemented the suspicion.

Briefly, Harry had worried that they'd also be expected to pay tribute to that business, as well, but as they passed by, Frank, pulling the wheelbarrow with the barrels and crates of shrunk merchandise, had their back and valiantly took on that particular task, parking the wheelbarrow around the corner and vanishing into the building.

Waiting for that last transaction to finish, they sat in the tavern, which allowed Harry to ask Cobbs some questions.

"You sure our stuff is safe where we left it?" Was the first one.

"Gov'ner, you could put a bag of Galleons on top of that pile and I'd guarantee you they'd still be there, tomorrow," Cobbs chuckled, waving the innkeeper over, who bustled over, quickly.

"They know better than take the stuff a bunch of pirates just bought. They know our next visit would be much less profitable to them," Cobbs replied with a feral grin. "Same reason they won't attack us unless we provoke them."

"So that's how business is done here?" Harry asked, ignoring the looks the innkeeper was giving him for ordering a butterbeer.

Cobbs nodded. "We come by, acting as incognito as possible and don't cause any trouble. We make sure we leave a lot of money in all hands, and they don't blab and don't overcharge us too heavily."

"Why isn't this town richer? I mean, these kind of ingredients sell for a really high price in Britain, and we also paid steep gold for it," Harry asked.

Cobbs took a long sip of his ale before he addressed that.

"Bloody trading fleets, that is why. You can't ship stuff to Britain, directly. Only they are allowed to, and they dictate the price they buy for."

"And why don't they just stop growing them, and grow something more useful?" Harry asked, his curiosity stirring.

"Shouldn't you be asking them this question?" Cobbs chuckled. "But well, they can still make some profit selling to other villages. This island has great soil for ingredients, would be a waste growing food. And not a lot of timber, makes it hard to keep Muggles from noticing if you deforest the whole thing. Also, growing ingredients means a lot of space, which means you can't grow a lot of food at the same time. Other islands don't have the soil for them, though. So every island does what it can do best, and we trade and barter for our needs. The excess goes to the trade fleets. It's like this... sym... bontic... stuff, you know, everyone profiting from sharing and stuff. Yeah, it'd be like that, but with them traders being less cooperative, pushing us around and buying for Knuts when they could pay Sickles and still make Galleons, and they set quotes for how much they need, meaning you need to sell most of your stuff to them, or they won't take anything."

"Bloody leeches," he cussed softly after finishing, concentrating on his drink.

Harry was silently pondering this while nursing his butter beer, only barely listening to a conversation between the innkeeper and Cobbs, until he got roused by a man rushing in.

"A patrol just entered the harbour," the innkeeper informed them after a hushed conversation.

"Well, we better take this outside, then," Cobbs sighed, handing the man some silver.

"Good. I don't like the idea of being trapped here inside, if it came to it," Tonks agreed, giving the cluttered room a last, disapproving glance.

They managed to take cover in a shrubbery in the perimeter near the tavern before the soldiers had disembarked. By the time they had started searching the town in groups of four, Frank had joined them, shirtless, which made Tonks raise an appraising eyebrow.

"Couldn't find it quick enough when they threw me out the back door," he grumbled as they watched two teams herding the visible townspeople together and addressing them.

"Probably looking for us. Havana's most certainly popping a vein after your stunt at Nassau, and Port Royal most likely isn't too happy, neither," Cobbs commented as they watched them shouting at the cowering people, some having children clutching to them.

"Let's get out of here, then," Harry proposed, trying to turn around, but held down immediately by Cobbs.

"No! We'd never make it across the fields unnoticed, and then both we and them pay the price. We sit and wait. I prefer seeing what happens. If need be, we can ambush them the moment they do rat us out," he explained. "Not that I expect this to happen. Now hush!"

Harry couldn't help but feel agitated when he noticed that one man had chosen to speak for the village, standing protectively in front of what seemed to be his teenage daughter cowering behind him. He could feel the situation was escalating when a team returned with the wheelbarrow of goods, Cobbs cursing softly as they did.

The questioning became a bit more intense after that, and soon, the commanding soldier backhanded the man, sending him to the ground. Harry watched with mounting horror as the daughter rushed towards her fallen father, only to be yanked to her feet by the hair.

When the commander pushed her at some of his men, who carried the screaming and kicking girl into a house, Harry moved. Or tried to. He briefly felt the magic wash over him as the darkness consumed him, and he knew no more.

 _ **ooOOoo**_

Harry came to with an start as the enervate spell hit him.

"Wakey wakey, white knight," a strange man welcomed him, grinning at him.

He had a spell in his mind before he remembered that this was Tonks' current form smiling at him. Carefully letting go of it, he also realized that there was a roof over their heads. And he was lying on a table.

"Had to get you out of the sun and patched up before waking you," Tonks informed him when she noticed his eyes scanning the surroundings. "You banged your head on a tree stump when you went down. Was easier to sort this out before waking you."

"My hero," a woman in her forties giggled behind Tonks as Harry slowly sat up.

Looking around, Harry realized that he was inside the inn, again, with some people milling around. Among them Frank, who had recovered his shirt. He was still too hyped from the enervating rush to think clearly, but it told him that they weren't in acute danger if the man had bothered with that.

"Are they gone? How's the girl?" Harry asked, causing the woman to giggle once more. "And who ambushed us?" He added when his brain decided to work properly.

"Sorry, boss, but that was me," Tonks tweeted. "And Cobbs, both. You were about to rush out and get us all killed."

"What kind of bodyguard are you? Shooting your client in the back?" Harry blurted.

"The one keeping their client safe, even from his own stupidity," Tonks snarled back.

"But the girl!" Harry protested, with Tonks not having any of it.

"First, us charging out against a group of thirty, with innocent bystanders behind them and us on an open field would not have changed anything for the better. Second, it was just a ruse, and we fell for it just like them."

Harry was about to object until she brought up the second point. "A... ruse?"

"It was me," the woman in the background spoke up. Only then, Harry realized that she was wearing the same dress as the girl did. "Polyjuice potion. Lets me take up the appearance of anyone," she explained when she noticed Harry's disbelief.

"Maybe I should explain," an elderly man spoke up. "I'm Joaquin, the closest to a mayor of this village. You see, these thugs always act the same. It's pretty predictable. We came up with a plan for that a long time ago. For each visit, we have someone who will be the one confronting them, and Sally and her girls will pose as his teenage daughter or young wife, and some other girls milling around, while the others hide."

"Wait! You mean that this happens often?" Harry gasped.

More infuriating to Harry, the man shrugged, as if it was the most normal thing. "Usually, every few weeks. Right now, every other day. They come by, ask some questions, terrorize us. Occasionally, they ravage some girl, trying to cow us. They never go beyond that. They know that if they step too far beyond the line, we might fight back. "

"How can you allow this to happen?" Harry asked, not believing what was said.

"It's not that bad, compared to a fight. We would overrun them just by the numbers, but they'd kill a lot of us. And then, they'd send more when the ship doesn't return. The town would be burned to the ground, and everyone they'd get hands on, killed. It happened. This way is better. The one guy who speaks out gets roughed up, but we draw lots for who is to be the spokesman, each time... And I... I can handle it," Sally spoke up.

"And if they grab a different girl, instead? One that didn't manage to hide in time?" Harry growled at her.

Pretty sudden, Sally lost her happy composure. "That's a pretty high horse you are riding, for being one of the reasons these guys keep showing up in a bad mood," she snarled, her eyes narrow. The sudden change in demeanour took Harry by surprise, and kept him well cowed while she ranted at him.

"But you know, welcome to the Caribbean, English boy," she spat. "Me and my girls are all in the crowd, polyjuiced and with attention-seeking charms, and proper attitude to attract these bastards. Usually, they take us. Sometimes, some girl can't hide well enough. Well, she won't be the first, and won't be the last. There are many other islands out there, and all get the same visits - and none of those those can afford the stuff we use. But that's why every healer on these islands knows memory potions and charms. In the end, she'll live. Everybody lives, and that's the only thing that counts."

"Ok, he got it, calm down," Tonks spoke up as she stepped in between them, just in case, making Sally take a step back.

"Yes, indeed. See Maria about your compensation, Sally. And commend your girls for their effort. You all were great, as always. You still got stock for if they come again?" Joaquin interspersed himself, as well.

"It was a pleasure, as always," Sally replied, sweetly, her smile intensifying when Joaquin flinched. "I think we still got two batches, maybe a bit more," she added.

"I'll advise Julio and Norma, then. They should have some more ready, soon," Joaquin replied, a quite tacit dismissal.

Sally waltzed out, but not without pinching Frank in the butt and whispering something in his ear that made him flush.

"About the goods," Joaquin addressed Cobbs, his posture screaming that this was a topic he'd really rather not talk about.

"We'll pay for the replacement, of course. We do not hold you at fault for them confiscating everything. Next time, we'll be more careful," Cobbs replied, which made the man relax and release the breath he had been holding.

"I do hope the customary discount applies, though," Cobbs added sharply – just when Harry was about to interrupt them, reminding Cobbs about the current relative lack of funds.

The statement had the effect of making Joaquin jump, slightly.

"Of course!" He replied hastily. "Please remind Devon, to avoid any misunderstandings."

"Good. We will," Cobbs replied with a smile that had a definite shark-like quality. Joaquin mumbled some approximation of goodbyes and tried to politely evacuate the premises, but Harry held him back with a final question.

"Who were they looking for?"

"No need to worry," came the reply. "They were looking for someone else. Seems it was a powerful witch who lead that attack on Nassau. Hair red as fire, had two wizards as her bodyguards, they say. If you see a older model Galleon, be sure to avoid it. Rumour has it she is fond of using Fiendfyre. Might burn your ship right down," he advised them, and left, never noticing how Harry and the disguised Tonks exchanged some brief alarmed looks.

**** The beach below Black Manor ****

Remus briefly stopped when he turned the last bend towards the beach. In the gloom of the setting sun, you could see Harry sitting on the big rock that had fallen off the cliff into the sea, a long time ago. It was well exposed now, for the tides had just turned. If a few hours, high tide would only leave a hand's width of it above the waterline, waves threatening to topple everyone being careless while balancing on it for a jump into the sea.

Harry was a pitiful image as he sat there, occasionally reaching out into the air for some reason. Only when he had waded into the sea and approached him further, slowly, he could see that he was wandlessly accioing small fish and throwing them at Luna's dolphin friends.

"You heard?" Harry asked as he heard him wading through the still knee-deep water to reach his rock, only taking the briefest glimpse to identify the intruder.

"Tonks told me," Remus spoke up as he tried to climb the rock without the helpful buoyancy when it was well submerged, ignoring his own aches from the last transformation.

"Hermione wouldn't come?" Harry asked, bitterly.

"She's doesn't know, yet. I asked Tonks to not tell her until I had a talk with you, first, so you don't make this a mess," Remus replied as he plunked down next to Harry, sighing from the exertion.

"A mess?"

Remus sighed, picking on some algae that were exposed due to the lower tide. "Harry, I do know you pretty well, almost as good as Hermione does. And I don't want you to hurt her."

"Why would I hurt her?"

"Your grief. If Hermione sees you like this, she will be devastated. This will hurt you even more, which will make her hurt even worse, and so on. Then, you will you do or say something stupid, or she will say something you get wrong, and suddenly everything goes up in flames. I'd hate to see that happen, just because your hero persona is acting up for no reason."

"No reason? I am the reason for what happened," Harry replied, facing Remus for the first time. In the fading light, his face seeming haggard from all the grief the boy was shouldering.

"Yeah. There it is. You're being stupid, took you no time at all." Remus replied, sounding extremely annoyed. With Harry expression changing into shocked stare, he continued.

"You were the excuse. Thugs like that will always find an excuse to do what they want."

"Still, I am the reason that dozens or hundreds of girls will get raped this week, alone," Harry snarled back.

"Well then, go – turn yourself in and get executed. Will it change anything? No. Next week, it will be one of the other dozens of pirates operating here, or a missing bribe, or the weather, or just because," Remus replied. "I know that this is hard to stomach, but it was the same during the war against Riddle. People grabbing power need to keep the masses down. And the best way to keep people down is to show them they can't protect their loved ones. Happens in every war."

"This isn't a war, though," Harry attempted to split hairs. Remus didn't let that argument stand.

"Not? I'd call this situation a military occupation. The people have no vote on the Wizengamot, the military is also the police force, with no real rules to hold them in check, and constant oppression and exploitation of the locals. This may look like paradise, but the apple does have a huge worm in it. Still, it's a place where no one will sell us to them, mostly because they hate the police more than us, and know that the reward will probably never get paid out, anyway. Anywhere else, we'd be found quickly. I say we keep nibbling at the thing and try not to bite the worm, and we will be fine."

When Harry didn't respond, Remus reached out and touched his leg, squeezing it briefly. "Don't let it eat you up," the man advised him.

"And what am I supposed to do?" Harry challenged him in turn.

Remus took a moment to ponder, before shrugging. "Be happy that you are safe? That your loved ones are alive and safe?"

Harry sighed, deeply. "Sounds cheap."

This time, Remus huffed. "So it seems, but at the same time, it's the most precious. Trust me, when they take everything from you, life seems bland. But as long as you are still alive, you always have a chance to make things better."

There was a pause while Harry was processing that response. "And if you can't?"

Remus felt kind of helpless when Harry kept asking such defeatist questions. "Then you do your best. Sometimes, you did everything you could, and things still aren't working out. That's not your fault. That's life. Sometimes good things happen, sometimes bad things happen. But from where I've been, I can tell you one thing with absolute conviction. No matter how bad life was, it still beat being dead by miles."

Harry produced an agreeing grunt, but did not reply, keeping staring out into the sea, instead. His only motion was a quick Accio and catch when one of the dolphins – only Luna could tell them apart, or maybe not and was just claiming she could – surfaced, chattering. Harry tossed the fish to his cetacean friend, and went back to brooding.

"You want to talk some more?" Remus finally asked when the silence went on for longer. Harry only kept staring, with not even a hint he had heard him.

"Want me to stay?" Remus asked, still receiving no answer.

"Fine," Remus said after they sat like that for a couple more minutes, starting to raise. "I'll leave, then. Think about it, vent some steam, whatever, and then come home. Hermione will be waiting for you, maybe she'll be better at knocking some sense into you than this old wolf," he spoke, squeezing Harry's shoulder a last time before sliding back into the water to wade back ashore.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry's brooding and feeding was cut short, once more.

"They'll get fat if you keep this up," a melodic voice sang out, right next to him.

Surprised, Harry almost fell into the water due to his startled attempt to jump away from unexpected presence. When he had himself seated safely, again, he took a look at who had snuck up upon him, only to quickly turn back, his eyes staring out into the sea. If he were immersed in the water, it'd probably boil on contact with his skin, he reckoned.

Luna had never been an especially socially conscious girl, nor conventional, in any sense. She had fallen head over heels in love with the sea, and swimming, but not with the concept of swimming suits. The wizarding type was appalling, the same style as in these old photographs of beachgoers, covering from the knees to the neck, so she outright refused them, as any woman with a bit of a sense of fashion would. She felt the same for one-pieces. Bikinis were a strange concept to her. It was almost painful to watch the men's embarrassment when she had shown up in a string thong style bikini the first time she came to swim with them. Harry definitely remembered her flashing Neville, and everyone else who got caught in the blast, at least once that day, just to win a splashing war with him.

Once she became a resident and joined them on a regular basis, she one day had explained to everyone that it's strange to go and don underwear to go swimming, when you don't wear it normally, for heat reasons, and just dropped her dress and went skinny-dipping with them, instead, except for the dozen bead necklaces she never bothered to take off, ever.

Harry heard those chime and tinkle as Luna sat down right next to him, leaning into him for comfort, completely ignorant of his embarrassment.

"I think Persephone has gained some weight in the last weeks. I wonder if she might be pregnant. Galahad isn't leaving her side, you know," she chatted on, oblivious to anything. "Wouldn't that be wonderful?" She asked, curling up at his side, snuggling up even closer into him, making things even worse.

A moment later, she sat up when Harry still hadn't replied. "Is something wrong? You seem awfully tense," she spoke, slipping into the water, again, and moving in front of Harry, who was rather glad the sea had risen enough to reach her navel.

"Did you get bitten by a pringlefish? Their bite does cause muteness, you know. Although they usually only bite during mating season. You may have a fever, your face looks flushed," she mused, rising to tiptoes to stretch up, trying to put her hand on his forehead.

When Harry made motions to evade her, she giggled.

"Don't tell me it's my bits. They do arouse you, but no more than usual. When I arrived, you looked like someone had died, and Mister Cobbs did not mention any losses," she inquired, smiling at him as she swayed with the waves as if she were a part of the sea.

"You're, you're," Harry stammered as he realized what just had happened, laughing when Luna suggested her name as possible next word.

"Minx," he chuckled.

"Swim with me," she demanded, sinking into the water, her necklaces and hair dancing on the waves in the last bit of the setting sun.

"I don't have a swimsuit," Harry tried to talk himself out of it. Of course, Luna stood up when he told her this, presenting herself, again. "Neither do I."

"If you insist on talking up on that cold rock, I'll have to snuggle into you, again," she added. Harry took a moment to ponder the threat. A moment too long. "Ok, ok!" He hastily cried out when Luna made moves to climb back up on the rock, towards him. Quicker as he thought possible, he had tossed his shirt aside, and piled his weapons on it, before diving in, following her into the deeper water as she paddled away from the rock.

"Och poo," Luna scowled as he resurfaced. "I was hoping to ogle your bum a bit. Yours seems tighter than Neville's," she moped. "Sure you can swim with pants like that? I don't want you to drown just because you want to hide your erection."

True to her prediction, Harry almost drowned right then, out of shock.

"See? A stupid way to die," Luna said smugly as she was paddling by him as he coughed, in a lazy backstroke, of course.

"You won't stop until I drop them, right?" Harry inquired, treading water to stay afloat.

"Suit yourself. But it's fine. I don't mind, and you don't need to worry. It's not as if I'd have sex with you without asking Hermione and Neville for permission, first," Luna replied, proceeding to swim lazy circles around him.

This was the second time she almost made him drown. "Ask them?" He sputtered.

For a moment, Luna stopped circling him and looked at him as if he were daft. "Of course! It would be rude to not ask before we do it."

"And I'm not getting asked, at all?" Harry asked the least compromising question that came to his mind, flabbergasted.

"Oh Harry," she giggled. " If they were both ok with it, why would you refuse?" Luna quipped before diving with a jump that made her pale bum briefly surface and shine in the light of the quickly setting sun before Harry could reply. Harry was sure she did that on purpose.

He briefly wondered what she was doing when a lot of bubbles suddenly rose from where she dove down, until he realized he could hear her make squeaking noises.

"But you really should take them off. If we are pulled around by them, you will lose them, anyway, and then you'd need to walk back without pants. I wouldn't mind that, but it would be a shame. These pants are nice," she spoke after breaking the surface, again.

Harry was kind of confused until the dolphins suddenly broke surface, chattering as they circled them. Luna's grin was all the answer Harry needed. He did hesitate a bit, her watching him with her head at an angle like a puppy trying to figure out something, but then he muttered a curse and pulled his pants off, banishing them towards his pile. Luna applauding made it even more awkward.

"Hold on to Galahad's fin, don't shout, and don't let go," Luna prompted him, doing as she advised him, but with Persephone. The moment Harry had his hands in position, the powerful animal shot off, his flipper pumping like mad. Harry was just about to whoop with joy when Galahad made a slight jump, only to dive deep. Feeling the pressure increase as they went deeper, Harry forced himself to open his eyes a tiny bit, so he could see. They had been diving to the reef, but this was somewhat different to diving under your own power. Instead of serenely drifting by, the corals rushed past them, fish diving for cover as the dolphins twisted and rolled by, like two Seekers hunting an aquatic snitch. This went on for a couple of seconds before Harry could feel his lungs starting to cramp. As if he had sensed Harry's discomfort, Galahad did a sharp turn up and broke the surface, just long enough for Harry to gulp in some fresh air, before pulling him back under.

The next time they broke surface, Harry couldn't help but whoop with joy. Which earned him a good gulp of salt water as they smashed into the water, again.

"I told you not to scream, didn't I?" Luna chided him from somewhere, he couldn't really make out where due to his coughing fit.

"You did, but not why," he managed to croak between coughs.

"I didn't think it was necessary. Anyway, did you know that most male fish don't really mate with their partner, but simply ejaculate into the water over the laid eggs and hope for the best?" Luna replied. The surprise actually stopped Harry coughing as he stared at her, once more.

"Are you done? Good. They are waiting for us," Luna replied, smiling brightly as if she hadn't just made a deliberate attempt to gross him out.

Harry had lost sense of time when they finally were deposited on the shore by their mounts. Wading out of the surf in the light of the almost full moon, Harry let himself fall back into the still slightly warm sand relishing in the fact he was no longer holding on for dear life and how amazing the ride has been.

Luna stood next to him waving the dolphins as they swam away.

"That was brilliant," he gasped.

"It is. It made you forget that I am nude and all your problems, didn't it?" Luna quipped, reminding him of both.

"Why thank you," Luna said in her sing-song as the inevitable happened. "Don't be a spoilsport," she chided as he sat up and repositioned his hands to cover himself.

"Yours is longer, but a bit thinner. Neville's chest is more muscular, though. And more hair. I like that. Feels good to dig my fingers into it while we have sex," she commented her findings.

"What are you doing, Luna?" Harry managed to press through his gritted teeth, trying to suppress an awkward blush as he tried to avoid staring at her.

"Distracting you. You couldn't mope while you were riding Galahad or were thinking about sex."

"I realized that, already," Harry growled, rolling his eyes at his unfazed friend "But why?"

"Tell me, were things getting better while you were sitting there, depressed?" Luna asked, not really waiting for a reply. "Were they getting any worse because you were having fun?"

Harry couldn't honestly agree to either question, so he settled for a shrug.

"See – when both are roughly equal as far as to being a solution, you should rather have fun than be sad. Dad always says that tears don't do anything but make the ground wet. When you stop crying and start finding a solution, that's when things get better," Luna explained.

"I'm afraid I might turn into the next Dark Lord if I do that," Harry replied, downtrodden at a sudden when he slipped back into his original concerns.

"You did swallow more than just water, did you? Must be some kind of aquatic Nargle – only way for you to turn stupid that fast," Luna quipped, starting to shake the water out of her hair, making her chains and bits wiggle along.

"Luna, this is a serious topic. You know that I killed more people in that battle than everyone else, by a huge margin? Tonks used freaking Fiendfyre, and we shot at them with cannons and firing squads, and I still killed more people as the rest, combined. I'm pretty sure that I now have killed more people than Voldemort! I lost count, and worse, I don't even care!" Harry snarled as he felt ridiculed by her dismissal.

His fierce grimace quickly turned into a terrified puppy one when Luna quickly stepped in front of him and knelt down next to him, taking his head between her hands and staring him in the eyes. "Definitely aquatic Nargles. I wonder how to extract them," she said, smiling softly at Harry, who desperately tried to keep eye contact.

Suddenly, her eyes lost her usual dreamy state, and bored into his. "Now that I have your attention, I will tell you something, and you will never forget it, right? You are not like him, and you do care. You are sitting here, beating yourself up for killing them, especially since it made things a bit worse. You hate that you are just constantly fighting to keep things from getting worse, all your life, and can't keep up. You won't feel that way when you try to make the next fight about making things better."

Somehow, her words clicked with Harry. It did indeed bother him how his problems always were present due to some arsehole's actions. Whether with Voldemort or now, his foes were fighting to make things go their way, and all Harry had done so far was trying to counter their efforts, wherever he could. He usually won the battle he was in, but in the meantime, they made advances on three other fronts.

"You mean I should fight for a cause I believe in?" He asked. "Voldemort did the same", he quickly added, morosely. "How will I know that I'm fighting for the right one?"

"I should smack you with a boob," Luna commented, shaking his head in her hands, gently, while laughing, reverting to her dreamy state. "Neville usually comes to his senses when I do that. Now, if only we had a way to ask a group of people what their leaders should do. Something like giving them a piece of paper where they could tick off an option, and count the results," she said, before pulling him forward to give him a peck on his forehead, and then letting go of his head, rising from her spot.

Harry had to lean back to avoid her body brushing against his face as she stood up.

"You want me to have a vote?" He asked, confused.

"What better way to find out if people agree that your cause is a good one? But I have to go now. These rides through the reef are always so invigorating, I need to find Neville to have sex with him," she concluded, walking off to pick up her dress, making a point to bend over without bending her knees.

"For the love of Merlin," Harry growled, averting his eyes, once more.

"Be sure to say hi from me to Hermione before you have sex," she called back over her shoulder as she walked off, lazily dragging the dress through the sand behind her, her white skin reflecting the pale moonlight, leaving an even more thoughtful Harry behind.

ooOOoo

About an hour later, when he had finally made his way back up to the house, he found most of his family in the sitting room. Hermione was kneeling on the floor, studying some papers she'd laid out, with Remus watching over her from a seat he had pulled closer, while Margret was relaxing with a penny dreadful in the seat near the balcony. He couldn't see Henry, so he assumed he was up in the bedroom, sleeping off the potions they still had to pump into him to make his leg heal properly. For some reason, they made Muggles drop like a sack, while wizards only felt drowsy.

Remus was still looking like crap, even though Tonks took great lengths to ease Remus pre- and post- transformation days. Dan had told him in private that Remus had admitted that he had already come to a point where he awaited the full moon almost as much as he dreaded it. Tonks wasn't around, though. Most likely sleeping ahead like she used to do during "those" days, to be able to accompany Remus when he couldn't sleep during the nights.

"There you are! I was this close to come and drag you up here and out of your moping," Hermione greeted him, looking up from the Animagus diagrams spread around her. He could see that she was worried, and about to say something else, but she stopped herself, looking at him, her head tilting first left, then right as she surveyed his face. "Something is off," she stated as a matter of fact.

"Off?" Harry echoed her.

"This isn't your mopy 'woe is me, the skies are falling' face. You look kind of confused, rather," Hermione expanded on her observations.

"Luna," Harry replied, explaining nothing and everything in just one word.

"That girl does have this effect," Margret quipped from her seat, having dropped her book on the side table. "What did she do to snap you out of it?"

"Forced me to go skinny-dip with her, and ride a dolphin," Harry gave her the brief version. "She told me to say 'Hi' to you, by the way," he told his girlfriend, who had started to giggle at the picture he just painted.

"She forced you to ride a dolphin?" Margret echoed, disbelieving, while her daughter was snorting in suppressed laughter, imagining the wringer Luna no doubt had put Harry through.

"No, that I did voluntarily. The skinny dip part was less so. But she had a point, I'd never been able to hold on with clothes dragging through the water. It was brilliant, like a broom flight, but under water," Harry set the records straight.

"I need to ask her about that," Margret gushed. "I'd even go along with the requirements for that," she giggled.

"Later, mum," Hermione sighed. "You're better now?"

"I'm fine," Harry replied with a boyish grin. "Knackered, though."

"So you're up for Animagus practice or not?" Remus asked.

Harry's face fell, immediately. "I've just snapped out of a depression, you want to put me right back into that state?" He growled.

Remus leaned back in his seat, hands lifted defensively, his smile betraying his intentions. "You had managed something hoof-shaped two weeks ago, on your last try," the man noted, putting some emphasis on the time since. "You certainly aren't going to get any better at it by sitting around, whining," he teased.

"What is it with you people," Harry asked, looking up as if he were complaining to the heavens above. "I was moping, not whining. At least get your terms right," he ranted, but failed to keep a straight face till the end.

"Yeah, I was being stupid," he confessed when Hermione and Remus were smirking at him. He didn't want to tell them that he had an even more stupid idea, yet, though.

"Dunno what she told you, but Luna has done a good job, I say," Margret remarked. Hermione could only agree to that.

"True. She has set a new record for snapping Harry out, I think."

Remus harrumphed, crossing his arms, as he turned in his seat. "Only because I softened him up for her." He proclaimed as haughtily as he could manage, looking like death, warmed over twice or thrice.

"Right." Margret shot him down, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "Doesn't she deserve a price for that?" She proposed in jest. Hermione did notice Harry flinching, briefly, adding proof to her suspicions that Luna had used heavy artillery to break down his walls. The girl had become a shameless flirt if she wanted to, and her act made her get away with anything she pulled off. If it was an act. You never knew with Luna.

"She'll have to settle for chocolates," she spoke up, keeping her face straight as she watched Harry wince once more, proving her guess beyond any doubt. Smirking, she watched Harry proclaim that he'd need to get his diagrams and fled the room.

 _ **ooOOoo**_

"Harry! Look! Look!" Hermione called out when Harry returned, arms laden with parchment. Leaving Remus and Margret behind, she rushed at him, waving her hand.

At first, Harry was kind of puzzled by her giddy state, until he realized that her hand was tiny and covered in brown fur.

"I did it!" Hermione cheered as she almost crashed into him. Her lips did impact on his, though, as she threw her arms around him, crumpling his notes. Not that Harry cared the tiniest bit for anything but her lips on his for the moment.

"Look!" She gushed as she let go, bringing her hand up between them. Or better, her paw. "Looks funny," Harry commented with a chuckle as he examined the tiny furry appendage stuck on a human arm, with just a small transition for circumference. He briefly stroke over the fur, before gently touching the small pad of her paw with his index.

With a squeal, Hermione pulled away. "That tickles!" She complained, giggling wildly.

"Please refrain from tickling her beaver in front of me," Remus deadpanned, fully aware that Margret would slap him for that, calling him awful. He didn't even try to dodge the hand impacting at his arm.

"Otter, not beaver," Hermione corrected him, harrumphing sharply.

"Please refrain from tickling her otter parts, as well," Remus replied, in the same tone. Hermione groaned loudly, both for how bad that joke was, and that she walked into it.

"How long did you work on that one?" Harry inquired, rubbing his temples between the thumb and middle finger of his right hand.

"The moment Hermione was determined to grow fur," Remus replied, smirking as he received another round of groans.

"Oh come on!" Margret cried out in exasperation.

"I must try changing a foot," Hermione tried to get back on topic, her brain falling back into working mode as a default.

"First, you need to practice reversing that. Your handwriting would suffer when you have a claw," Remus commented the moment she had finished.

"Please stop," Harry groaned.

"If it behoves you, try and make me," was the quick reply.

Harry stared at the man, realizing that this was the Marauder still hidden inside the usually so reserved man – who was smiling at him with a almost feral grin – and then decided to not dignify it with a response. Without question, Remus had a retort planned for everything he could come up with.

 _ **ooOOoo**_

"No, I definitely haven't seen anything like that, either," Remus commented as he inspected Harry's definitely noodly appendage. At least, that's was the most approximate term to describe it.

"And you definitely didn't prank him? On your honour as a Marauder?" Hermione asked Remus, for the third time.

"I honestly swear I am up to no good, but it wasn't me, this time," Remus replied. Remus' eyes briefly shot the only other suspect in the room, but immediately dismissed it. Hermione currently still had two tiny otter arms, and could not have used a wand properly until she reversed that. At her current proficiency level, it'd probably take her another fifteen minutes before her arms were reversed to human form.

"Hmm," he uttered as he again inspected the mess. From Harry's left wrist, well, sprouted, for no better term, a strange appendage. A quick glance at the diagrams confirmed their correctness, and told him that this should have been a deer's hoof. It could be one, but it was elongated to two tubular objects of about three feet length, horn-like, but all completely floppy like a bit of cartilage without bones.

"And you definitely didn't lose focus and overpowered it?" He asked Harry, who was still staring at his hand in a state of shock.

"Absolutely not," Harry denied, his arm wiggling as he moved. "The first time, the flip to the shift came easier and surprised me, so it grew out to a foot in diameter before I realized I was pushing too hard. The second time, I concentrated on the diameter, and only used the absolute minimum to make it flip, but it still ran away from me. I cut all power the moment it started growing out of control."

"Good job," Remus encouraged Harry with a smile. "Try to reverse it. Maybe you're just having a bad day and can't focus properly. This is very advanced magic, and unlike other spells you can't just force it to work with more power, it's a delicate process. Still, I believe I should go and get Tonks. Maybe she has an idea, or at least, she'll get a good laugh, as well," he continued, smirking at Harry before he made his way to the door.

Harry knew only one way to reply to that. "Great," he sighed, trying to ignore Remus sniggering behind him.

They spent another half hour with repeating the experiment a couple of times, hands and feet, using spells to force Harry back into shape. After they finished laughing, that is.

"Ok, that was fun," Tonks concluded, smiling brightly at Harry when he grumbled that she should only speak for herself.

"And? Do you have any idea what the problem might be?" Hermione inquired, first.

"Sorry. Not a clue. I've had a dormmate at the academy who struggled with the change, but she only suffered the problem of getting stuck. Since Harry can reverse it, he doesn't have this particular problem," Tonks replied, her hair dimming from pink to purple. Margret perked up when she noticed the change in her appearance, frowning thoughtfully in the way she and her daughter shared.

"You certainly have thought about it already, but could he have your abilities? You told me once that people like you can't be Animagi," she proposed her theory.

Tonks seemed surprised by that question. Blinking a few times to come to grips with the thought, she took some time to scrutinize Harry thoroughly before she finally spoke.

"I always wondered about your mop – did you ever get a proper haircut?"

"Aunt Petunia tried it once. Kept yanking my hair this and that way, hard, all the time. By the time she chased me off, I looked like a badly shorn sheep. Over night, it all grew back," Harry recounted a tale of his childhood, not noticing everyone scooting to the edge of their seat as he went on.

"Ever since, I have cut it once a week, myself, to avoid her doing my hair ever again," he concluded, deflating everyone.

"I hereby declare you a boring normal wizard!" Tonks intoned in an important voice. She caught the multiple raised eyebrows aimed in her direction, and quickly added "For a given value of 'normal'" to her statement.

"As if I could ever have anything normal in my life," Harry spoke after he had huffed, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

Everyone turned their head when Margret made a loud hissing sound. Acting as if she had just opened an imaginary can of soda, she offered the invisible beverage to Harry. "Here, have a can of pity, cheers," she told him with a brilliant smile that got even more radiant when Harry gave here a glare and drew a face at her.

"Did you just do a dad joke, mum?" Hermione demanded, fighting the smile that crept on her face.

"He's not here right now, and somebody had to do it. It's the way he would have wanted it," her mum replied, not missing a beat.

"Dad jokes? I must admit I'm curious," Remus spoke up, interested.

"Hello Curious, I'm Margret," Margret replied, instantly, under a loud protest by her daughter.

"As my dad used to say with a sad sigh, whenever he'd reverse his car into the garage - 'This takes me back home'," Tonks added her childhood's traumatic memories, getting a round of painful groans as reply.

"Horrible. Henry uses that one when we board the plane for the return trip after holiday," Margret added. "Just imagine, a pirate who continuously makes dad jokes – the true scourge of the seven seas."

"I rather believe his crew would scour the keel with him," Remus chuckled.

"Serves him right for such abrasive humour," Harry stated, calmly. Hermione's glare was withering, but he was willing to pay the price.

"I like this dad joke concept. Is there a thing like mum jokes, as well?" Remus inquired.

"No," Margret denied. "We get to use your baby pictures to embarrass you," she explained. "Speaking of," she spoke as she stood and made her way to a cabinet, smirking at her daughter.

Hermione finally had her fill and stood. "Ok, that's enough mental abuse for today, I'm off to bed," she huffed, stomping off.

"Me too, I'm knackered," Harry agreed, following her.

"You know," Hermione started once they were out of the room where Tonks had just started cooing over the album Margret had picked up. "I agree that you need more 'normal' in your life. As of today, when we go to bed, I'll first spend hours ignoring you, reading a book, instead, before claiming to have a migraine and go to sleep, pressing my cold feet on yours to steal warmth. Also, the sheets now belong to me, alone, to do as I please."

Hermione was smirking, quite pleased with herself, as it took Harry a couple of attempts, opening his mouth again and again, not unlike a fish on land, before he could reply. "You'll pay for this," he growled at her when he finally got his jaw unstuck.

"I hope so. I've been looking forward to see how much Luna has primed you for me," Hermione replied playfully in a mocking voice, scampering off with a squeal when Harry pounced at her.

 _ **ooOOoo**_

"Hermione?" Harry asked the boneless witch cuddling into his side.

"Hmmmm?"

"I've been thinking," he spoke, hoping she would be conscious enough to listen. Her snort of laughter proved him right.

"If you can still do that while we're doing what we did, we'll need to get better at it," she giggled.

"No, I was sufficiently unable of higher brain function during that, especially when you got on top," Harry replied after a good laugh. "Not that I'd not want to try getting even better at this," he quickly added, flinching when her hand found what it was reaching for, in response.

"But I've been thinking about the thing Luna said to me," he continued, stopping when he suddenly felt a lack of Hermione around the very same spot she just had reached out for. Frankly, there was a huge lack of Hermione all over his body, just now, as she had sat up and turned her back on him.

"Are you ok?" He asked, wondering what just happened.

"I'm a bit surprised you bring it up, now," she replied, her voice quite sad. "We've been teasing you long enough, but neither of us thought you'd ever consider it," she replied, now definitely sounding hurt.

It took Harry a moment to realize what she meant. He had to laugh out loud when he did. He barely managed to wrap his arms around her to keep her from jumping out of their bed.

"Let me go!" She cried out, trying to fight him off.

"No chance," he chuckled. "Because you are getting me all wrong," he stated, feeling the fight leaving her at his words.

"I am?" She asked in a small voice.

"Twice over," Harry replied. "First, you thought I would ever let you go, and second, that I'd ever touch another woman. Luna is just a little sister to me, just like Ginny."

"Ok, a perverted, attractive and usually nude sister that constantly tries to get a reaction out of me, but just a sister," he admitted as he heard her short in disbelief. Turning her around in his arms and making her sit against him, his eyes sought hers. "But I'd never, ever have anything with either of them, not even if they had your permission. Because they'd never get mine, you understand?"

Hermione started crying, softly, as she buried herself in his chest. "I'm sorry. I kind of started this prank, myself, and now got hit by it. Serves me right. I'll tell Luna to back off."

"I'm sure I'll kind of miss seeing her nude, but it's appreciated," Harry replied, jokingly.

Hermione hit him with a feather light fist, not raising her head from his chest. "Prat," she mumbled with a teary voice, sniffling. "Not that she'd stop that, she'll just tease you a bit less. Or maybe not. With her, no one ever knows."

"True," Harry chuckled. "Anyway, I was thinking about something else she said. Right now, all we do is hide, and hope to be let alone as we just enjoy our days. And she's right, it's driving me mad. I need to have a goal. I kind of miss the days that we had dark and haughty or Dumbfart to deal with. While being stressful, it was something you could work towards, in a way."

Hermione had been listening, and found herself in agreement. They had busied themselves with the island life, and their Animagus studies, but there wasn't any perspective, right now. She had to agree, their life prior to their escape was stressful, but they had a purpose. It made things easier. Right now, she occasionally found herself wondering what she was studying for. Harry's recent slacking off in his studies might have the same reason.

"What kind of goal do you have in mind?"

"Actually, a couple, short and long term," Harry admitted. "I'm planning to get a vote on them, just in case, but I want to sound them out with you first, weeding out the stupid ones and finding a way to present them, properly."

"Ok, sounds reasonable," Hermione replied. "But let us get more comfortable before you start, my bum is falling asleep in this position," Hermione chuckled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"When you need help waking it up, I'm volunteering," Harry replied, moving back to his side and propping his pillow up against the headboard to sit comfortably. Hermione copied his move, but ended up using him as a backrest, mostly, as she cuddled into him.

"Go ahead," she commanded as she had found a comfy place.

Harry took a moment to compile his thoughts before he started. "Well, short to medium term, we need to stay safe," he started. "I'm sick of waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I think I have an idea that will permanently remove all sources of danger, so we finally can live kind of normal lives."

"Sounds good. It would be nice to be free to go wherever we want. There are a lot of colleges in the States that are nice, for example," Hermione mused, ignoring his chuckling at her predictability. "But how do you propose to achieve that?"

His response had her sitting upright.

"By going to war."

Hermione spent some time motionless but for a occasional shake of her head, trying to comprehend what she had just heard. "Okay, I already ran out on you for a misunderstanding once, today, so I'm giving you a chance to explain, but this better be good!"

"The way the islands are held under the British yoke is appalling. I've seen a glimpse of things that horrified me, and people told me they learned to live with it. While not as bad, by far, I've been in their place, once, and I feel that if we get them to stand up with us, we can end the Wizengamot's rule over the islands."

Hermione slowly settled back into him at his words, feeling a bit calmer than before, seeing that he had a good motive, at least. "A noble cause, but what then? I mean, given we manage to raise an army, and manage to win – a big if, if you ask me, even if we get better guns – what then? Happily ever after?"

"I thought about it, and I can see at least three options. Either each island becomes independent, they become one nation, or maybe more than one, come to think of it, or we might address the Americans to join them. Or maybe Mexico, but they are kind of sketchy, I was told," Harry started babbling in a stream of consciousness, before coming to a sudden stop.

"But to be frank, I don't feel like that's for me to decide," Harry stated. "I don't want to get them out from under one rule to impose another on them. I think what becomes of them should be put to a vote by the people, or each island, to be honest."

"Beautifully said," Hermione told him, giving him a smooch on the cheek. "I'm still not so sure about that going to war thing until you can show me that we could win, but you got the right idea for the aftermath, I believe."

Cuddling deeper into his side, she started trailing lazy runic patterns onto his chest and belly with her fingers. "So, going to war is your short term plan?Can't wait to hear your long term ones, then. World domination?" She joked, giggling at the frown that briefly replaced the serene expression on his face from her ministrations.

"No? Not even a continent? Good! What else? Children?" She tried to innocently probe a topic she had been thinking about, lately.

She could feel him briefly tense when the words registered with him. Much to her surprise, his reaction was not negative, though.

"You know, that never even crossed my mind, yet. I like that idea. I don't know about right now, but I'd certainly like to consider this for later," Harry said, planting a kiss on the top of her head and pulling her closer into his embrace she let herself melt into, happily.

"But my actual plan did include children, in a way. You see, I don't want to spend my life fooling around, and I'll never have to work a day in my life. I've got the Black fortune burning a hole in my pocket. And along with it, their library. Did you remember what Lenny said about trading spells and all that? I, and I think Sirius would wholeheartedly approve of this, would like to use the Black money and library, and create a school."

To say Hermione was surprised would be a huge understatement.

"Are you ok? Did I say something wrong, again? I mean, I shouldn't have assumed you'd want to be a part of this, if you want to do something different, then I'm all for it..." Harry began when he felt and heard Hermione start crying, softly.

Her response of hugging him even tighter confused him a bit. Thankfully, Hermione explained it to him.

"Everything is more than ok, love," she cooed as she gave him a tight squeeze. "Just let me cry a bit about how wonderful you are, and then I'll attempt to murder you by sex, later" she laughed, even though she was still crying into his side.

Harry was more secure than ever that he'd never understand girls, but was looking forward to be the happiest corpse, ever. After all, Malfoy had always prophesied that he'd meet a sticky end, some day.

 _ **ooOOoo**_

 _ **AN:**_

Hy there. Still there, still stressed, still struggling.

Kid is doing fine, but the little tyke is the most efficient time-sink, ever. Now that I have kids, I finally understand the true meaning of the term "tired". It's not just a state or a word, it's a fifteen feet troll with a spiked club and a matching codpiece.

Between the kid, the job, the stable, house and other construction, and the blacksmithing, something had to give. I'm still writing and I will never abandon the story, but I still haven't gotten my time-turner back from service. I do have some more stuff written for this, and will post once I get far enough to not mess up my plot lines.

Hope you guys and gals can forgive me. Have fun.


End file.
